


these nights go on and on and on

by queenhomeslice



Series: Gladdy Daddy Thirst: Gladio/Reader Stories [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Feels, Awkward Boners, Camping, Characters Play Dungeons & Dragons, Childhood Trauma, Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, Day At The Beach, Developing Friendships, Dick Pics, Drunk Texting, F/M, Falling In Love, Fights, Friends to Lovers, House Party, Jealousy, Kissing, Love Confessions, Love-Hate Relationship With Exercise, Male-Female Friendship, Masturbation, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Pining, Protective Gladiolus Amicitia, Reader-Insert, Slow-ish burn, Soft Gladiolus Amicitia, college student gladiolus amicitia, double dates, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 58,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27386179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Gladio's starting his four-year stint at Insomnia University, the elite private college in the heart of the Crown City. He's just here to hook up with girls, party, and graduate...Right?
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Reader
Series: Gladdy Daddy Thirst: Gladio/Reader Stories [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682950
Comments: 355
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.
> 
> _____  
> I have a lot of plans for this story so we'll see if I end up executing them how I actually want to. Be patient with me, as always; my life is a hot mess.
> 
> Many thanks to Thwippersnapple--we have 24 pages of notes between us, so I couldn't have even started planning ANY of this without her.
> 
> Fic title from Blink-182's "After Midnight"

“I can’t wait to tell all my friends that my brother’s a super cool college student!” Iris Amicitia bounces along, swinging Gladio’s hand with reckless abandon. She’s already dressed in a child-sized “Insomnia U” sweatshirt—Clarus couldn’t even get the tag off after he’d paid for it in the campus bookstore. 

Gladio thinks it’s kinda cheesy to wear collegiate gear to the freshman welcoming ceremony, so he doesn’t--he’s in a hoodie, joggers, sneakers, and a ball cap. Sporty, yet plain. Typical male college kid gear (well, except for the nerds who are in dress shirts or polos and khakis—fuck that, he’s no Ignis Scientia). Clarus holds the bulging bookstore bags, one full of Gladio’s books, the other full of school supplies and _IU-_ print shirts and pants. 

“Yeah yeah,” Gladio responds as the walk up the centuries-old stone steps to the main auditorium of Conqueror Hall, the music and theater building with the largest holding space for incoming students and their families. “Cool college kid, right.” He sighs as he smiles at his younger sister. “You really think I’m cool?” 

Her big brown eyes shine with affection. “Well duh, Gladdy. You’re the coolest big brother _ever_.” Suddenly, her face drops and her cute, small mouth begins to quiver. “I’m gonna miss you.” 

“Oh, hey, quit now, none of that.” Gladio bends and scoops up the eleven-year-old in his strong arms and squeezes tight. “We only live a couple of miles away. You can come visit me on the weekend, okay?” 

“Son, we’d best get in and find a seat.” Clarus nods to the other approaching families. 

The auditorium is crowded already, full of excitable students and tired families, worried parents and eager-to-escape eighteen-year-olds, panicked freshmen and helicopter moms. Gladio, his sister, and his father are...none of that. His father is indifferent about his going to school—it's something that’s expected of him. He’s still the royal shield of Prince Noctis, but Gladio’s determined to be more than a body guard—he's always loved reading and history. He _is_ kind of a nerd like Ignis, but he’d rather die than wear a bowtie and suspenders. So he’s in Insomnia University for an international relations degree. He’s settled for a minor in history, just so he can better understand the monarchy he’s pledged to serve. At any rate, he’s excited for the college experience—frat parties, hot girls, sports. Iris keeps having mood swings, from proud to excited to sad. Gladio’s excited, but he’s keeping his cool. Classes are still two weeks away, but move-in day is in eight days. He plans to use this time to get a head start on some of his reading—some of his professors have already posted first week assignments on the student portal, and Gladio _does_ want to work hard and get good grades (while still attending parties and playing sports and hooking up with hot girls). 

The Dean of Students and the university President are up on stage, talking in hushed whispers with muted microphones as the parents and students continue to file in. Gladio, Clarus, and Iris slide into a row in the back—they're not the only noble family here, but still, Gladio doesn’t wanna attract _too_ much attention. At least, not until the start of school. He recognizes a couple of his high school classmates and waves, but makes no move to get up and initiate conversation. He flexes his back and shoulders as he stretches and rests his arm on the empty seat to his left. His father is at his right, with Iris squirming excitedly on his lap. Their bags are on the floor by their feet. The rest of the row is full on the other side of the one empty chair, so unless someone who’s already seated has to get up and pee, there won’t be any awkward shuffling over each other. 

Out of sheer boredom, Gladio turns to look at the rest of the people down the row. He wonders if he’ll be in classes with any of them. He wonders if the guy at the far end is his roommate. There’s a kid who looks about thirteen a few chairs down—child prodigy? Gladio questions to himself. His eyes rove over the other new students and their families, gaze finally settling on one mother and daughter pair. The daughter is chubby, filling up the seat with her thick legs and plush waist—her ample chest jiggles as she laughs at something her mother has said. The older woman is plain, with a soft, kindly expression—she's plump too, though not as much so as her daughter. The student’s hair is short, cut into a cute layered bob that frames her round face, and her ______ eyes sparkle with excitement behind thick, blue-framed glasses. She’s already wearing an _IU_ t-shirt, jeans and sneakers completing the plain, stereotypical college look. 

Gladio’s unaware that he’s staring until the girl’s mother looks at the phone in her lap and becomes preoccupied with a notification, attention drifting away from her daughter. The girl’s gaze roams over the ever-filling auditorium—Gladio watches as her eyes finally flick to the students and families on the other side of her; and then, over to him. Her eyes widen and Gladio swears that he can see her blush as she quickly avoids her gaze and absorbs herself in her own cell phone. 

“Gladiolus, did you hear me?” 

Gladio snaps out of his daze and finally looks back to his father, blinking. “Uh. Sorry dad, spaced out.” 

Clarus sighs, tightening his grip on Iris. She’s dozing on his chest, looking so small in her big, soft sweatshirt. “I said, I hope you realize what’s expected of you for the next four years. I understand you wanting to have the full college experience, but your duties to the crown will not allow you to have too many extracurricular commitments.” 

Gladio sighs. They’ve already had this conversation, but for some reason, his dad keeps rubbing it in. “I know, I know. No fraternities.” 

“And no official sports, either. Intramural teams only.” 

“I know, dad. We’ve had this talk.” 

“I was making sure you didn’t forget. And no on-campus jobs. Whatever money you need, I or the crown will provide. Within reason, of course.” 

“No applying to be an RA, got it.” 

“And so help me, Gladiolus, if you do anything illegal on campus and it gets back to me, the consequences will be severe. You are not only representing house Amicitia, but his royal Highness as well.” 

Gladio rolls his neck and cracks it, eyes darting to the side to look at the chubby girl he’d been eyeing a few minutes before. He catches her glance for a split second before she’s ducking into her mother’s shoulder, whispering. He wonders if he has something in his teeth. He turns back to his dad. 

“I get it, dad. You don’t have to keep lecturing me about this. I’m going to be fine. I’ll keep my head down, go to class, graduate, be Noct’s shield. Easy peasy.” 

“I hope so,” says Clarus. “You should keep your distractions at a minimum. Let your training discipline bleed over into your studies.” 

Gladio nods and shifts his eyes to the stage, where the Dean of Students is finally walking up to the podium and motioning to the sound crew in the balcony above the auditorium. He sits up a little straighter, eager for orientation to start and be over with. “No distractions,” he whispers to himself. 

________ 

Eight days later, Iris is pretending to help Gladio move into one of the older, smaller dorms by carrying a backpack full of his favorite novels and plastic bags full of Cup Noodles. Gladio himself is carrying the heaviest suitcases and bags, with Clarus hauling slightly less. At least the boys’ floor is up only _one_ flight of stairs—the entire middle is open to the community kitchen, a few quiet study rooms, some vending machines, a large laundry room with ten washers and dryers, three communal computers and a printer, bathrooms, ping-pong and billiard tables, old couches and tv and dvd player in the corner, and multiple bulletin boards full of campus news and new student info, decorated with the same cutesy border that some of his teachers in high school had used. The third floor houses the girls’ rooms—Gladio thinks he might offer to help some of the ladies move their stuff in after he’s done. He finds his room—135—and seeing as the door is already open, he nudges it with his foot. 

The other boy is already putting sheets on his bed, suitcase open and some of the dresser drawers pulled out. He turns at the movement and smiles. He’s tall, almost Gladio’s height, with blond hair and green eyes, chiseled jaw and lean, muscular build. “Hey bro,” he says. “You must be the famous Gladiolus Amicitia, right?” He drops his pillowcases and reaches out his hand. 

Gladio shuffles to the other bed and drops his heavy luggage on top of it, moving towards his roommate. “Good to meet ya. You’re Sol, right?” 

Sol nods, dropping Gladio’s hand. “Sol Clericus, at your service.” He gives Gladio a once-over. “What sport do you play?” 

It’s always so easy for people to assume Gladio is a star athlete—and they were right, up until the end of May. But now Gladio can only do sports for fun, not semi-professionally with the actual school teams. He chuckles and shakes his head. “Was the quarterback at Insomnia High, but I can’t play for the college, unfortunately. Got other shit on my plate. Am definitely gonna join some intramural teams, though.” 

“Aw dude, that sucks. We should totally hit the gym together to train. I’m on the baseball team.” 

Gladio nods. Sol’s a bit shorter than he is—one doesn’t have to be tall to play baseball, necessarily—just fast. And Sol’s got less bulky muscles than he does—more aerodynamic for sure. “Sweet, I hope you guys have a good season next spring. And the gym sounds great. We took a tour during orientation, and I’m real impressed. You can get personal trainers and everything.” 

“You’re telling me! I’m excited about the racquetball courts,” Sol laughs. 

“Gladio,” Clarus huffs, still trying to catch his breath. “We still have more stuff in the car.” He turns and shuffles Iris out of the room. 

Gladio rolls his eyes. “Sorry about my dad. I think he’s just anxious. Don’t mind him.” 

“No offense taken, dude. Your dad’s the Shield of the King, you think I’m gonna say anything back to him?” Sol laughs. “You need any help getting the rest of your stuff?” 

Gladio shoots him a trademark grin. “If you want to, sure.” 

Sol accompanies Gladio back down the stairs, but Gladio slows down as he reaches the bottom step. Entering the lobby, dragging heavy pink luggage, are the pleasantly-plump mother and daughter duo that Gladio had seen during freshman orientation. The residence hall director greets them and stops them once they’re inside, ushering them over to the small office window so that the girl can fill out the housing agreement, get her room key and roommate info. 

“Dude, you good?” Sol’s voice brings Gladio back down to Eos. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. My car’s out this way.” Gladio all but drags Sol out to the parking lot, hoping that he’ll be back in time to maybe help the girl up the three flights of stairs. 

When Clarus, Iris, Gladio, and Sol get back into the lobby with the final pieces of Gladio’s luggage, the mother and daughter are still there, signing paperwork and reading the rules and getting the rundown of on-campus living from the director. Other RAs are doing the same with various other freshmen, even though a mandatory residence hall meeting is scheduled in the second-floor community center for eight pm. Gladio shoos his family and his roommate up the stairs. 

“I’m going as fast as I _can_ , Gladdy ” Iris pouts, lugging a cloth tote full of magazines up the narrow stairwell. “S’not my fault your bikini magazines are so _heavy_.” 

Gladio flushes and sputters a reply. “They’re men’s _health_ magazines, you dimwit!” 

“Gladiolus, be nice to your sister,” huffs Clarus, wrinkled brow sweating with the effort of carrying multiple duffle bags full of Gladio’s training equipment up the steps. 

Sol just laughs as he carries up Gladio’s mini-fridge, balancing his single-cup Keurig on top of it. They reach their room in the middle of the hall, and Gladio dumps all of his stuff on the bed, not even bothering to unpack. 

“Where are you going? That’s it, son. We got all of your stuff. If you missed anything at home, I can bring it back by later tonight.” Clarus says, hands on his knees. He's not as in bad of a shape as King Regis, but he feels almost there. 

“I, uh,” says Gladio, running his hands through his short hair. “Thought maybe I’d help some of the girls with their moving?” 

Sol’s handsome face splits into a wide grin. “I like the way you think, Gladio. Which—can I call you that?” 

Gladio nods. “Everybody does. You don’t have to say the long flower name if you don’t wanna.” He laughs, clapping his roommate on the shoulder. “C’mon, we can’t leave the ladies hangin’.” He turns to Iris, who’s no longer angry, and squats. “C’mere squirt. I’m sorry I got mad. I didn’t mean it.” 

She collapses into him, crying quietly, squeezing her thin arms around his neck. “I love you Gladdy,” she says. “I’m going to miss you so much.” 

“I know. I’m only a short drive away. You can come visit on the weekends and I’ll take you to each lunch in the coffee shop in the university center, okay?” 

Iris sniffs as Gladio rises, bringing his arms under her legs to support her. “Okay,” she mumbles. 

Gladio hands his sister off to Clarus, who hugs him with his free arm and kisses him on the cheek. “I’m proud of you son. Just remember what I said.” 

“About our image, right. I know. Don’t worry dad, I’m not stupid.” 

Clarus sighs. “It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s everyone else.” 

After saying their final goodbyes, Gladio and Sol follow Gladio’s family down the steps, into the lobby. The RA is just finishing up with the chubby girl and her mom, and Gladio motions to her. Sol nods and points to another girl and her family in the corner, so he goes to offer his help to them. 

Gladio clears his throat as the mother turns and looks at all of the suitcases. “Hey there, uh ma’am? Can I help you guys up to the third floor?” 

The mother smiles warmly and nods. “Why, thank you young man. We’d love the help. __________ is a heavy packer!” 

His female peer blinks up at him behind her square blue glasses—and yep, Gladio definitely notices the blush on her chubby cheeks. “Uh,” she says. “I--thanks, but you don’t have to--” 

“No, I wanna! C’mon, what’s your room number?” Gladio lays it on thick, smiling one of his devastatingly charming smiles. No woman—or man--he’s ever wanted has been able to resist his smile. 

“Uh,” she mutters again, digging in her pocket for the bronze key she’d been given. It’s attached to a key ring with the room number on it, just like Gladio’s. His is already on his lanyard with his truck keys. She brings it out and looks at the printed keychain. “Three-thirty-five.” 

Gladio chuckles. “Directly above me! I’m one-thirty-five.” He bends and takes the two largest suitcases in each hand, lifting them as though they weigh half of what they do. The mom wasn’t kidding—this girl _does_ pack heavy, but luckily, Gladio’s six-six and got muscles for days. What was her name? _________? _Pretty_ , Gladio finds himself thinking. Before he realizes it, he’s on the third floor and halfway down the hall, looking for room 335. 

“Oh, here we are!” chirps the girl’s mom. She sets down her heavy bags and knocks—there's no answer. “Looks like your roomie hasn’t checked in yet, sweetie! Which means you get the pick of beds!” 

_________ mumbles in embarrassment, pushing past Gladio to slide the key into the lock. “Mom, please don’t say _roomie_ ,” she sighs as the door swings open. She shuffles inside and stops in the middle of the room. She turns to Gladio and avoids his gaze, blushing. “Uh, if you’ve moved in already, can I ask...where do you suggest?” 

Gladio sets her heavy suitcases down and grins. He nods towards the bed closest to the door. “Definitely this side. Here. Let me arrange it for ya.” Gladio gets to work—he turns the desk so that the back if it faces the other bed, creating a kind of barrier between _________’s side and the empty side. He places the bedside table on the other side of the desk, and moves the bed a little bit behind the chair, being sure to still leave enough room to pull the chair out from the desk. Gladio points to the closet space that’s closest to the wall. “I’d claim that closet, leave the one by the door for your roomie.” 

“See _________, this nice young man says _roomie_ ,” __________’s mom teases, dragging one suitcase and plopping it down next to the chest of drawers that’s in the closet. 

“He’s also my age—I mean, uh, I mean, I guess you are,” she says, still not really looking at him. 

Gladio lifts an eyebrow, but she doesn’t notice. Either he’s got a zit, or she’s just really, painfully shy. “Yeah, I turned eighteen in April. Hey uh—you want that chest of drawers moved?” 

_________ looks at it, then, finally, glances up at him. And again, those pink cheeks turn a brighter shade of red. “Um...what do you think?” 

Gladio shrugs. “Might give you more floor space in the closet for shoes...” Gladio crosses over to the closet and lifts the 4-drawer chest, setting it between the bed and the border of the closet. “Like this, sweetheart?” Gladio turns back. 

The girl’s face is as red as a tomato as she nods slowly. “Yeah, uh. Looks good, thanks.” 

Gladio turns, putting his hands on his hips. “All right, what else do we have to unpack?” 

________ 

Gladio heads back to his own room on the first floor to arrange his own furniture and unpack after three more trips up the stairs to __________’s room. Sol still isn’t back yet, so Gladio takes his time making his tiny section of his dorm into a home. He puts up a few band posters, one of a jacked-up pick-up truck, and one of a quiet landscape from Duscae, with four camping chairs around a campfire in the foreground of the shot. The words “find peace” are scrawled across the top in a pretty cursive font. Gladio sighs as he looks at it. He misses camping. He'd taken one big trip with Noct, Iggy, and Noct’s quirky little friend Prompto over the summer, kind of a big college send-off. But now he wishes he was hiking, or watching Noctis fish off of some old rotten pier, eating Iggy’s foraged meals from fresh fish and wild herbs and mushrooms, instead of being in the noisy city. 

He folds up his duffel bags and places his extra supplies in a few large plastic containers that he slides under his bed. He’s just finishing shoving his pillows into pillowcases when there’s a knock on the cracked door. 

“Come in!” he calls, wondering if it’s an RA or something with more move-in details. 

“Um,” comes the timid voice. 

Gladio turns and smiles, moving to the door and opening it fully. It’s the girl, __________, he’d helped upstairs. “Hey!” he says brightly. “Need any more help?” 

She shakes her head and gulps, avoiding eye contact yet again, adjusting her glasses with chubby, shaky hands. “No, I uh...” 

Gladio leans one arm on the door frame, crossing his legs and putting his other hand in his pocket. It’s an unconscious movement, but it’s the stance he adopts, usually at house parties, when he’s trying to really talk one on one with a girl. Gladio’s not dumb—he knows how he looks, and he knows how other people look at him. But the fact that this girl isn’t giving off the right body language intrigues him. “Hey, don’t be so shy. Look at me.” 

__________ flicks her gaze up and gods help him, she actually shrinks back a little. “I...I’m sorry, I just, um. I’m bad at meeting people, and...and talking, and I just...uh. Um.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “My mom was wondering if you’d have coffee with us at the coffee shop in the university center. Um. Like as a thank you. For helping me move and...stuff.” 

Gladio grins. “Yeah, I could go for some coffee. And hey, I don’t think we were properly introduced. I’m Gladiolus Amicitia, but you can call me Gladio.” 

She nods. “Yeah, I uh...” __________ clears her throat. “I know who you are.” 

Gladio chuckles. “Seems my reputation precedes me.” 

“I guess so.” A beat. “Um. I’m __________ ___________.” 

“Yeah, I heard your mom say your name. It’s pretty. ____________.” Gladio grins at the slow blush that yet again graces her round face. Gladio decides to lay on the charm. He keeps one elbow up and propped against the door frame, but leans down lower to look her in the eye. “Do you want to be friends?” 

___________ just stares at him. “Um. You don’t have to, y’know, if you don’t want—like you don’t have to feel obligated--” 

Gladio lifts one dark eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I want to? I’m new here too y’know, just like you. We’re both freshmen, after all.” 

“I, uh. Really? You’re not like...joking?” 

“Why would I joke about wanting a new friend?” 

“Well, I just...I dunno.” She shrugs, tucks her hair behind her ear. “People don’t usually want to be friends with me is all. Especially not guys.” _Especially not guys who look like you_ is the unspoken sentence. 

“Hey, this ain’t high school anymore. If you’re talking about shit being a popularity contest, I’m pretty sure college isn’t like that. We’re adults now. Besides, you seem nice enough. Who’s to say we can’t hang out?” 

And for the first time since he’d noticed her, __________ gives Gladio a bright, genuine smile. “Okay,” she says, a little more confidently. “Coffee it is, then.” 

Gladio makes sure to have his key and wallet before leaving his room, then follows her up to the third floor. ___________’s mother is just coming out of the room, shutting the door behind her. 

“Well, now that you’re all settled in, I won’t cramp your style any more, sweetheart.” She hands over a wad of bills. “Here’s some money for you to make it through your first couple of weeks, and don’t forget, your student ID has your meal plan on it, so use that too, okay?” 

“Wait, Mom, I thought...we were going to the coffee shop?” 

Mrs. __________ smiles and nods. “Right. You are going to have a nice coffee with your new strong friend here, on me.” She shoves the money at her daughter until _________ reluctantly takes it. “Now, give us a hug, and I’ll get out of your hair. Remember, I’m only across town, so don’t hesitate to call me if you get homesick, okay?” 

Confused, ___________ hugs her mother and kisses her, not without shedding a couple of nervous tears. Gladio follows them down the steps and out of the small, freshman-only residence hall, waving goodbye to the older woman as she makes her way to the adjacent parking lot. 

“I’m sorry,” __________ says. “I didn’t know she was gonna leave us. Um. I can just give you some money for helping, and you can go do whatever you want, I guess...” 

Gladio gently puts his arm around her and starts walking toward the university center, pulling her along with him. He hears her gasp softly in surprise as her short, chunky legs move to keep up with Gladio’s long strides. “Didn’t I already say I wanted coffee with my new friend? C’mon, let’s go.” 

________ 

At ten till eight, Gladio and Sol make their way up the stairs to the community lobby. All four RAs are there—two for the boys’ floor and two for the girls’--along with the RHD, the residence hall director. There’s excited chatter among the other students, most of them already settling into friend groups or roommate pairings. Sol waves to a group of giggling girls and grins, turning back to Gladio. 

“Excuse me for a sec, bro. Gonna go say hi to my new friends.” 

Gladio waves him off, nodding. “Sure man, no sweat.” He’d introduced himself to a few other people, and he smiles and nods in their directions, but his amber gaze is looking for one new friend in particular. He spots her finally, in a far corner, half-hidden by a table and four chairs that’s set up with an old chessboard. Gladio shoves his hands inside of his knee-length basketball shorts and makes his way across the room, ignoring the hushed whispers of recognition from the people he’s yet to meet. 

__________ is cross-legged on the floor, phone held sideways, tapping away. Gladio stands next to her and slides down the wall, close enough so that his broad shoulders and defined biceps are touching hers. She jumps a little, finally lifting her head and turning to look at him. 

“Ooooooh, King’s Knight!” Gladio exclaims, digging out his phone and launching the mobile RPG. “Wanna be friends so we can help each other in co-op battles and stuff?” 

___________ stares for a minute before nodding slowly, clicking on her profile and her bringing her personal code up on the screen for Gladio to see. “Sounds good,” she says quietly, nearly drowned out by the chatter of the other residents. She’s silent for a minute while Gladio selects the _add friend_ option on his King’s Knight settings. “Uh,” she says, all nervous again. “Listen, Gladio--” 

Gladio almost drops his phone. It’s the first time she’s said his name all day. “Yeah?” He saves face, pushing the _send_ button on his friend request. 

“Um. Really. Why are you being nice to me?” 

Gladio tilts his head. “I thought I told you before. It’s college. It’s about meeting new people, right? You don’t want to be friends with me?” 

“No, it’s not that, I’m just...well, why do _you_ want to be friends with _me_?” 

Gladio shrugs. “I thought we had a nice time at the coffee shop. We’re both international relations majors, so that’s one thing in common. We’re in the same dorm—two things. We both play King’s Knight—three. We ordered the same thing at the coffee shop—four.” He grins. “I’d say we’re well on our way to being bffs.” 

“I don’t--my looks don’t bother you?” 

Gladio’s jaw drops. “What...where is this coming from?” His ears perk up—one of the RAs is announcing the passing around of a sign-in sheet, making sure every resident is accounted for. The clipboard is on the other side of the room, so he still has time to talk. “Why would your looks bother me?” 

“I mean, I just...you’re _you_ ,” __________ says as she accepts his friend request and exits the app. “Y’know. Shield of the prince, nobility. You could probably dead lift a car.” 

“I can,” Gladio confirms. “But what’s that gotta do with anything?” 

“I’m--I mean I’m not even pretty. I don’t want to like. Tarnish your public image. Or whatever.” 

“Psh,” Gladio snorts, shaking his head. “My image don’t matter as much as his royal pain in the ass’s does, so don’t worry. I don’t think anyone would think twice about us hanging out. Just two buddies at college, right?” 

“I mean...I guess?” 

“What,” says Gladio. “Why would you think I care about how you look?” 

“I dunno. It’s just...guys like you don’t usually hang out with. Um. Girls like me.” 

The lightbulb finally flickers on inside of Gladio’s brain. “What, you mean, just ‘cause you got some meat on your bones?” 

“I’m just used to being teased, is all. Or asked out on fake dates. Or someone pretends to be my friend but then drops me a few weeks later and giggles to their other popular friend circle about it.” 

Gladio frowns. “Some people are royal dicks,” he grunts. “Promise I’m not like that. Promise. I really do want to be your friend. Just because.” His face softens into what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “So you can stop questioning it, okay?” 

She smiles softly and nods. “Okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just...” ________ shrugs. “Defense mechanism. Had to make sure it wasn’t a trap.” 

Gladio shakes with laughter as the guy leaning against the wall next to him bends down to hand him the clipboard with the sign-in sheet attached. “No traps here, sweetheart. Just me.” Gladio reaches up for the clipboard with a murmur of thanks and misses the way his new friend blushes for the umpteenth time that day. 

______ 

Gladio arrives at his first class of the day—his first college class _ever_ —five minutes early, holding a large cup of hot coffee in his hand. His first semester is filled with core requirements—he's taking eighteen hours, the maximum load for a freshman, and one that’s definitely _not_ recommended—but Gladio’d had straight _A_ s all through high school, taking advanced and honors classes, so it’d been easy to convince his teacher mentor to let him take on that amount of classes. Also, throwing around his last name had been a bonus (not that he’ll admit that out loud). 

It’s still pretty warm in Insomnia, so seeing as it’s only the last week of August, Gladio’s in sandals, long gym shorts, a muscle tee, with the sides cut out nearly all the way to the bottom hem of his shirt. Gladio’s damn proud of his body, and he’s always eager for an opportunity to show it off. He’s glad that he and Sol have opposite Monday, Wednesday, and Friday schedules, which means he gets the bathroom at 6 am before anyone else. His eyes brighten in surprise as he approaches the door to History of Lucis 1000. 

“Hey,” he says, voice still rough with sleep. 

_________ looks up from where she’s sitting by the door. She looks up at him with tired eyes. “Please tell me why I decided to have an eight am class.” 

“Aw c’mon, _I’m_ here! Can’t be that bad, right?” 

She grins, taking a sip of her own coffee, which is iced. “I guess it’s okay _now_.” 

Gladio smiles and looks at the door, then back to the paper schedule in his hand. “Huh. We are at the right room, yeah? I checked my email and the student portal last night, I didn’t see anything about canceled class, or that it’d moved rooms.” 

________ shakes her head and stands, picking up her coffee cup after she’s on two legs. “Me neither. I tried the door, and it’s locked.” 

“Do we wait until 8:15? That’s still the thing, right? If the prof doesn’t show in fifteen minutes, we can leave?” 

__________ shrugs. “I mean, I guess. Wait, what’s your next class after this?” 

“College trig at nine. It’s in Behemoth Hall next door.” 

“Get out, I have that class too!” 

“No way,” Gladio grins. “Looks like we’re morning bros. Er. You know what I mean.” 

__________ giggles. “Nah, it’s cool. Morning bros it is.” 

The professor shows up two minutes later in a rush, apologizing and bowing in his apologies. He unlocks the room and turns on the light, flying to the front of the room and popping open his briefcase. Confused, Gladio and __________ wander inside and sit on the front row, placing their coffee and their backpacks on their desks. 

“Well, hello!” chirps the older man. “I see at least two out of the thirty registered students decided to be on time today. My name is Doctor Questus Aquila, but you may call me Dr. Q.” 

Gladio smiles at the older man. He looks like someone’s absent-minded grandpa, with his tweed sport coat—with patches on the elbows, naturally—ill-fitting khakis, oversized glasses, and wild, white hair. He watches the man pull out a history textbook and a pack of paper syllabi, followed by a single sheet of paper. Gladio can see through it—it's the roll. 

“Yes, well,” says Dr. Q, glancing at the roll, then at the two of them. “Should we wait for your classmates?” 

“Nah,” says Gladio, stretching back, reaching his arms up high. He misses the way his friend ogles him. “Their loss. Go ahead, Doc.” 

Dr. Q smiles and thumbs two syllabi from the stack and slides them onto the desk. He picks up the roll, and a pen. “Now then, here we have...” 

“Gladiolus,” says Gladio. 

Dr. Q nearly drops his pen. “Goodness me. _The_ oldest Amicitia child, here in my class. What an honor.” He makes a check mark, peering over his spectacles at Gladio. “Welcome, indeed. And miss, you are...?” 

“I’m uh. _________ _________,” she says shyly. “Not as impressive as my friend here.” 

“Bollocks to that, I say,” says Dr. Q, checking off her name. “I believe that everybody is somebody. Now, for the syllabus...” 

Gladio leans forward and nudges ___________’s elbow with his own, and smiles when she elbows back. 

__________ 

As fate would have it, ___________ has a nearly identical schedule to Gladio’s. Their third class of the morning ends ten minutes after eleven, freeing the both of them up until one pm, when they have alternate language arts classes in the Stella Hall across campus. Their Tuesday and Thursday schedules line up as well—in fact, many of their fellow residents are in the same classes they’d had today (with the exception of eight o’clock history). Gladio’s delighted to have a friend in so many of his classes. He follows __________ into the cafeteria, where they swipe their student IDs and make their way to the buffet line. Gladio plans to go for a run later, so he loads up on a little protein but mostly carbs. ___________ follows him quietly, getting a plate of cookies, a salad, and some grilled chicken. But then they come to the pizza section, and as soon as Gladio reaches for the spatula to plate the last slice of meat lover’s, a small, chubby hand with chipped pink nail polish reaches out too, brushing his fingers. 

Gladio shivers involuntarily—weird, he’s not even cold—and looks to his right. __________ is gazing up at him behind smudged glasses, face flushed. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, drawing her hand back quickly, as though she’s been burned. “You can have it Gladio, I’ll get plain cheese.” 

“Nope!” Gladio quips, sliding the spatula under the last slice and plating it, dumping it onto her tray. He serves himself three cheese slices and leaves the buffet line, heading to the drinks, before ___________ can do anything to stop him. 

“No, seriously!” she follows right behind him, protesting. “It’s fine! You can have it!” 

“You want it, take it,” Gladio says, turning back to look her in the eye. “I’m sure more will be ready in a minute, ___________.” 

__________ pouts adorably but relents, letting Gladio get his two glasses of Gatorade in peace. She gets a glass of water and half a glass of tea and follows him to a small, two-person table near the large windows that overlook the rest of Insomnia University. 

“Seriously, it’s fine,” Gladio says, shrugging off his backpack and plopping on the blue plastic chair, stretching his arms up high. 

__________ does the same, except she delicately hangs her backpack from the back of her chair and scoots up closer to the table. “If you say so,” she mumbles. “You coulda had it.” 

Gladio just grins, and the two friends eat in comfortable silence, people-watching as the cafeteria ebbs and flows with hundreds of students over the next hour. 

________ 

Gladio doesn’t get back from training at the Citadel across town until nearly eight pm that night, and he’s starting to feel beat. But he already has some light reading and worksheets due in two out of the four classes he’d had today, and he wants to establish a good routine. He’d only been at the Citadel for three hours—he's due for another session tomorrow after classes are over, so he wants to start homework while he’s still semi-coherent. He can sleep in a little, with his first class being at eleven am and running for an hour and a half, followed by a two pm class that runs the same amount of time. He yawns as he slogs up the stairs to his room, itching to get out of his Crownsguard fatigues and into some sweatpants. His room door is ajar, and there’s heavy rock music resounding from within. 

“Hey,” says Gladio, pushing open the door. Sol and a couple of the other guys from surrounding rooms are sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, playing cards and drinking energy drinks. He nods in their direction. “’Sup guys?” 

“Gladio, big man,” says one of them—Julian, maybe? Gladio can’t recall at the moment. “Poker night, bro, let’s deal you in.” 

Gladio shakes his head and pulls off his black shirt, followed by his boots and pants. “I’ll catch you on the next one,” he says. “I’ve got homework already.” 

The others, including Sol, quietly whisper “nerd” among themselves, but it doesn’t faze Gladio. He’s never been one to bow to peer pressure. He _wants_ to do well in school. It’s only the first week, and there’s plenty of time for parties and poker. Gladio shrugs into sweatpants and sneakers and a hoodie, skipping a shirt. He shuffles around the books on his desk, grabbing the ones he needs along with some notebooks and pencils. “Catch you guys later,” he says, pulling his lanyard around his neck. 

“See ya!” calls Sol, followed by “What a shit hand!” 

___________ has her earbuds in with lo-fi music on low, scribbling out math problems for their take-home test in her notebook. Her roommate, who apparently already has a boyfriend, is at a residence hall across campus. She’s about halfway through when there’s a knock on her door. Confused, she reaches for her phone and pauses the music, getting up from her bed and putting her worksheets and notebook aside. 

“Hey,” says Gladio when she opens the door. 

___________ just stares up at him—this beautiful, noble boy who has somehow wormed his way into her life with a force that’s left her perpetually breathless. “Uh, hey,” is all she can respond. “What’s up?” 

“Sol’s got some guys in our room, so I was wondering if I could come do some work up here with you?” Gladio cranes his head inside. “Roommate out?” 

__________ nods and grants him full access, shutting the door after him. “Libra’s got a boyfriend already, apparently, so she’s at his dorm. I think he lives in...Couerl Corner?” 

Gladio grins as he dumps his backpack on her desk chair. “Ooooh, that’s like, the luxury apartments on campus. Definitely fancier than our little Moogle Manor, here.” 

“Yeah but this is cozier. Builds a sense of community, y’know?” 

Gladio nods in agreement, looking at her math work on the bed, and then looks at her bare legs in the short lounge shorts she’s wearing. All that skin, dimpled with cellulite, thick and round and so, _so_ soft-looking. “Uh,” he says. “You doing trig?” 

“Yeah, the take-home test.” 

“Cool. You can help me then, I haven’t started.” 

Forty-five minutes later, Gladio feels warm, so he sits up from where he’s hunched over __________’s desk, doing his language arts reading, and takes off his hoodie, absently slinging it over the back of the chair. 

After several minutes of silence, ___________ notices him. “Any reason why your shirt is off?” 

Gladio drops his pencil and turns. “You’re not hot?” 

___________ shrugs. “Not really. Uh. Hot air rises, I guess?” 

Gladio grins. “That’s gotta be it. Why, does it bother you?” 

___________ blushes slightly and shakes her head. “I mean, not really.” She quickly looks back down at her notebook and pays him no attention. 

Gladio doesn’t think much of it as he turns back to his short story. 

It’s eleven-thirty before either of them realizes it, but ___________ finally finishes her work and grabs her phone to pause her music. “Oh shit,” she says, taking out her earbuds. “Gladio, it’s thirty minutes to curfew. You have to go back.” 

“Huh, already?” Gladio sits up, turning. He’s still shirtless, and he stands up to stretch, closing his eyes and yawning. 

__________ tries, and fails, not to look at the deep v-cut of his hips. She turns away to pick up her notebook and papers from her bed before Gladio opens his eyes. 

“Damn, I didn’t realize I’d been up here that long.” 

“Did you get done what you needed to?” 

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.” Gladio glances to the empty side of the room. “Roomie still out huh?” 

“I guess so. Hope she doesn’t get caught past curfew,” __________ chuckles. 

Gladio finds himself weirdly drawn to the sound of her laugh as he packs up his stuff. He’s still warm, so he just grabs his hoodie after he shoulders his backpack on his bare shoulder. “I’ll let you sleep, then. See you tomorrow at eleven for biology?” He smiles at her. 

___________ grins back and nods. “You bet.” 

In a split-second decision, Gladio asks, “Can I get a hug?” 

The feel of her soft, chubby hands on his back has Gladio’s stomach dropping down to his toes. __________ feels so warm and soft against him, Gladio doesn’t know what to do. He feels so oddly drawn to this girl. He squeezes her tight and sniffs her hair, reveling in the feel of her face smushed up against his chest. He pulls away, finally, dizzy with emotion. 

“I’m really, _really_ glad we’re friends,” he says. 

____________ nods, looking at him through her thick blue glasses, cheeks red and mouth parted in surprise. “Yeah, um. Me too.” 

Gladio heads towards her door, but when he opens it, another girl is standing there—skinny, conventionally attractive, all legs, platinum blonde wavy hair, wrapped from head to toe in Victoria’s Secret PINK line. “Woah, sorry there! I was just leaving.” 

Libra just stands there, dumbfounded, looking from her awkward, geeky roommate to the shirtless demigod in front of her. “Yeah, no worries!” She bounces to the side and watches Gladio walk all the way down the hall and vanish down the stairs. She scoots inside, shutting the door in disbelief. 

“Hey, welcome back,” __________ says shyly. “Did you have a good time with your boyfriend?” 

“Me? Nah-ah, girl. We gotta talk about _you_. Who the hell what _that_?” 

___________ shrugs. “That’s just Gladio.” 

“Gladio.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Last name?” 

“Amicitia?” 

Libra’s jaw drops. “You mean that’s _the_ Gladiolus Amicitia? Holy _shit_.” 

“What? It's no big deal.” 

“Um, I dunno what planet you’re from, __________. _That_ is a huge deal.” 

“We were just doing homework. We’re just friends.” 

Libra waggles her eyebrows as she bounds to her side of the room and begins to undress, changing into a skimpy little nightgown. “Sure,” she says. “And I’m a cactuar.” 

“Do you really think he’d look at me any other way?” __________ turns on her lamp and flicks the overhead room light off, changing into pajamas of her own. She goes to the sink to brush her teeth. “We’re _friends_.” 

“Do you not know his reputation?” Libra raises an eyebrow. “That boy has a body count in the double digits, according to some rumors.” 

“Well, I think I’m safe,” ____________ says, squirting toothpaste on the bristles. “We’re friends, there’s nothing more. We’ve known each other a week.” 

Libra shrugs. “If you say so.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'll stagger home after midnight  
> Sleep arm-in-arm in the stairwell  
> We'll fall apart on the weekend  
> These nights go on and on and on
> 
> "After Midnight," Blink-182

A month into the semester, and Gladio finally feels like he’s falling into some kind of routine. He’d secured a spot on an intramural football team, the one with arguably the best non-varsity players at the school, the Starshells. There are five other teams that they’re set to compete against over the next several months, with games a couple of times a week, and practice on the weekends; Gladio suddenly finds his hands full with classes, Citadel training, and football. When he’s not doing any of that, he’s spending most of his free time during the week with _________—he's only made it to the gym a handful of times with Sol, but the other boy seems to have his hands full with doting sorority girls, so Gladio doesn’t feel too bad. He’s not having as much time for parties and girls as he’d thought, but strangely, he finds himself not minding too much. It allows him to hyper focus on his personal training and his homework, even though the other guys on his team and in several of his classes try to get him to go out more. Gladio only goes to a fraction of the events he’s invited to. 

It’s Friday night, and Gladio knows of at least three frat parties happening in the row of houses just behind campus, but he’s not at any of them. Instead, he’s in the library—it's open late, and he needs to work on his half of the presentation for his introductory political science class. He climbs the stairs to the third floor reference section, hoping to find an unoccupied study room or at least a quiet corner with an empty desk. He rounds a stack of books, and there, splayed out on the couch, is _________, dead asleep and breathing deeply. A thick novel rests on her large tummy, backpack splayed open on the floor, contents half in and half out. A sweatshirt is balled up behind her head, and her chunky blue glasses are askew on her peaceful face. 

Gladio’s mouth goes dry and he panics—is he too stressed? There’s a desk near the couch, so Gladio shrugs off his own hoodie and delicately drapes it across his friend, and he settles down to get some work done. 

It’s an hour later when he hears some shuffling from the couch and a quiet “Ah fuck, I fell asleep.” Gladio laughs to himself and saves his slideshow progress, glancing up from his laptop to see __________ reach under the hoodie to pull out the novel, replacing the bookmark and letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud. She pulls the hoodie up around her face, burying her head in the fabric, sighing deeply. “Gladio?” she calls. 

“I’m over here, doing this dumb PowerPoint for our project.” 

“Shit, I need to work more on my part. I’m almost done, I swear.” A pause. “Your hoodie is so warm. I’m keeping it.” 

“Aw, that’s my favorite one,” Gladio mock whines. He smiles as he looks at the outline in his notebook and creates a new info slide. 

“I’m joking, it wouldn’t fit me anyway.” Her voice falls, and Gladio hates it. “I’m so comfortable, I don’t wanna move.” 

“Then don’t,” says Gladio. 

“I need to read more for literature. But these classics can be so hard to get through.” 

“What’s your prof making you read?” 

“ _Moby Dick_ ,” ___________ groans. 

“Oh nice,” says Gladio. “The whale book.” 

“The whale book,” she echoes. 

“We’re reading _Middlemarch_ ,” says Gladio. “It’s good. A romance.” 

“I’d rather literally read anything else at this point.” She sighs. “What time is it, anyway?” 

“Uh, ten.” 

“Ugh, shit. I just wanna go back to the dorms and sleep.” 

“Then let’s go,” says Gladio. “We can work on our project tomorrow after my football practice.” 

“Can I come?” 

“To where?” 

“Football practice.” 

Gladio smiles. It’s the first time she’s asked. “Sure. I’ll come get you when it’s time. It’s usually in the morning, be forewarned.” 

“Eh, I can take a nap tomorrow afternoon or something.” 

________ 

The sun is high overhead the intramural field, and ___________ is sitting with a cloth tote full of Gatorade for both herself and Gladio. The wooden bleachers are sparse with spectators: there are a few people with cameras taking pictures for the campus newspaper and website, and a few other girls, which ___________ correctly guesses are some of the other player’s girlfriends. The intramural teams don’t get the fancy equipment that the university’s official team, the Insomnia University Dualhorns, are privy to; just helmets and t-shirts with the team names. The Starshells, Gladio’s team, has twenty guys signed up, according to the final meeting last week. The co-captains hand the players their shirts, but Gladio just rolls his up and jogs to the stands, handing __________ his team shirt, as well as the shirt he’s wearing. 

“You’re hot already?” she asks, taking both shirts and shoving them inside of the bag with the drinks. ____________ is _not_ looking at Gladio’s pecs. She’s _not_. 

Gladio grins. “Just don’t want these to get all sweaty.” 

__________ rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Whatever. I just think you’re allergic to shirts.” 

Gladio winks and smiles even wider. “Or maybe I just wanna show off.” 

__________ is content to sit near, but not really _with_ , the other girls, who chatter excitedly about their boyfriends as they watch the team run drills, go through mock plays, and do various exercises with each other. Finally, after about an hour of just watching guys grunt and sweat out on the field, one of the girls scoots closer and taps __________ on the shoulder. 

“So, which one is yours?” 

___________ turns back, confused, eyebrow raised behind prescription sunglasses. “Huh?” 

“Which one is your boyfriend? It’s gotta be the tan dude with the short buzzcut, right, the one who talked to you earlier?” She points at Gladio, who’s been doing one-handed push-ups for the past fifteen minutes. 

“Who, Gladio? Oh, nah, he’s just my friend, we’re not like that.” 

“Oh, really? You’re out here just as friend?” 

“Well, yeah.” __________ shrugs, continuing to watch Gladio. “That’s not weird, right?” 

“Not really, I guess, but it’s mostly just girlfriends that come and watch intramural team practices.” 

“Call me the odd one out, I guess.” 

“I dunno girly, he just seemed kinda flirty.” 

__________ scoffs, waving her hand. “Trust me. Guys don’t look at me like _that_.” 

“I think you’re pretty,” says the girl, moving back to her circle of friends. 

“Thanks,” ___________ mumbles, unsure of what to think. She looks back at Gladio, at all the chiseled meathead jocks who look nearly identical, and sighs. Nah. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that someone who looks like Gladiolus Amicitia could ever be interested in her romantically. 

_______ 

Hours later, ____________ and Gladio are showered up and holed up at the library with their laptops, continuing their presentation for political science class. Gladio’s cross-legged on the couch, typing away, and ___________ is leaning on him, back to shoulder, scribbling down notes from a non-fiction book she’d checked out for the project. They’ve been working in comfortable silence for a while, but a thought suddenly pops into Gladio’s head. 

“Do you wanna go see a movie tomorrow?” 

__________ stills her pencil and knocks her head back on Gladio’s solid bicep. “Depends. Are you paying? I’m broke.” 

Gladio laughs. “Well duh, I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t planning on paying. We can go to the noodle shop afterwards. Or before?” 

“That’s fine with me.” She pauses. “I would’ve thought you were planning to hang out with your roommate tomorrow. Or, I dunno. One of the guys on your football team.” 

Gladio shrugs. “Sol’s got fraternity shit to do tomorrow, a community service project.” He watches a couple come up the stairs to the otherwise-deserted third floor and disappear into the endless stacks of books, but pays them no mind. He imports a graph from a website into his in-progress slide and resizes it, dragging it into position beside his text box of information. “And I mean, the guys on the team are nice, but...” _I’d rather hang out with you._ For some reason, Gladio is too shy to say it. Which is strange, because Gladio usually says what he means. He can’t think of a way to say it without __________ getting the wrong idea; but, after a couple of seconds, he tries anyway. “But, I dunno. I just like hanging out with you, I guess. That okay?” 

___________ is thankful that she’s facing away from Gladio, so he can’t see her cheeks flush. “Y-yeah, that’s okay. I just didn’t want you to feel like I was the only person you _had_ to hang out with.” 

Gladio chuckles. “I see other people, don’t worry.” Except, as soon as Gladio says it, he knows it’s not really true. His friend circle is comically small, a far cry from high school, when he was one of the most popular guys _ever_ , and _everyone_ was his friend. 

They lapse back into silence for a few minutes before Gladio’s ears catch muffled whispers from within the stacks, followed by soft, ragged breathing and the rustling of clothes. __________ hears it too, because her scribbles fall silent, ears strained with curiosity. When the soft slap of skin starts to fill the air, accompanied by intermittent squelching, Gladio feels his ears go red. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, craning his head sideways. The thick scent of mint and oranges assault his senses. His nose is _just_ above her hair. “Do you hear that?” 

__________ has seen enough movies to know what is going on in the stacks. “Yeah, I hear it,” she whispers back. “Uh. You got any headphones?” 

“Way ahead of you,” says Gladio. He silently reaches into his half-open backpack and pulls out two cheap sets of wired earbuds, emblazoned with the logo and toll-free number of the cash advance place that’s around the corner from the university. He sets his computer to the side and reaches for his phone, lifting up his right arm so that ___________ loses her back support and falls into his lap. Her notebook and reference book slip to the side, and she looks up at Gladio with a curious expression. 

“Excuse me,” she says. “I was using your arm.” 

“Your free trial of _arm_ has run out,” says Gladio , reaching to pull his phone out of the outermost compartment of his backpack. “Please enjoy this complimentary version of _lap_.” He digs for another gadget—his earphone splitter. He unwraps both pairs of cheap earphones and plugs them into the dongle, handing one set to ___________. He brings up his chill lo-fi playlist and leans back to close his eyes, smiling as he feels ____________ shift and get comfortable on his lap. She begins to doze minutes later, and Gladio nods off with her warm weight on his thighs. 

________ 

Monday afternoon, Gladio finds himself tossing a football back and forth with one of his intramural teammates. He hears a shout from across the quad, and the football hits him square in the face as he turns, making him stumble back in shock and pain. 

“Shit bro, you okay?” the other boy, Marcus, calls. 

Gladio rubs his left jaw and picks up the football. “I’m good!” He stands upright and sees a concerned ___________ jogging toward him. Gladio does _not_ watch the way her thick, curvy body jiggles as she power-walks up to him. He barely has time to react before she’s in his personal space, reaching up to tug his head down to her level, inspecting his cheek. 

“Gladio! Are you sure you’re okay? Your face is red, that football hit you pretty hard... Do we need to go see the nurse?” 

Gladio’s dazed, staring into ___________’s wide, worried eyes behind her blue glasses. “Uh, no, I’m...I’m okay.” 

“No, it’s starting to bruise. C’mon. Let’s go.” 

“No, _________, I’m fine, I just...” 

But __________ is already releasing his face and wrapping her chubby hand around his and pulling him towards the student health building. Gladio looks over his shoulder at Marcus, who’s got his hands on his hips, waiting. “Sorry bro, infirmary time!” 

Marcus waves in return. “You’re good, see you at the game tomorrow!” He turns, headed off to the university center. 

“Really, ___________, I’m fine. I used to be the quarterback for Insomnia High, remember? This isn’t the first time I’ve been hit in the face with a football.” Gladio laughs it off, but winces slightly with the wide movement of his jaw, stumbling along behind his friend. 

“It’s my fault you got hit in the first place. C’mon, at least let them give you some painkillers or some ice or something.” 

Gladio’s helpless as he lets her tug him along, all the while thinking about the odd feeling of her hand in his own. “Well, since it was your fault, you owe me a burger from Kenny Crow’s across the street.” 

She slows down as they approach the small student health building, turning to look back at him. ____________ feels too far gone to let go of his (big and impossibly _warm_ ) hand. “Y’know, that’s what I was going to actually ask you about.” 

“What, Kenny Crow’s?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been craving their bacon fries.” 

“Oh shit, no way! Big same, it’s been a while since I’ve eaten there. We’ve just been so busy with school...” 

__________ nods, finally letting go of Gladio’s hand in favor of opening the door. “I was wanting to look at the comic shop next door to it. You down?” 

Gladio smiles. “I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else right now.” 

__________ 

There’s a knock on the door; ____________ is in the bathroom, so Libra bounces up to open it. She’s not surprised to see Gladio standing there, in a ball cap and sweats and an obscenely-cut muscle shirt, leaning against the jamb. 

“Hey,” he says, dripping charm and swagger. 

Libra raises an eyebrow. “She’s taking a shit.” 

“I am _not_!” comes the muffled cry from within the tiny bathroom. 

Gladio laughs and shakes his head. “Can I wait inside?” 

Libra shrugs. “Suit yourself.” She backs away from the door and goes back to her desk and her homework she’s working on. 

It’s another Sunday afternoon, and yet again, Gladio finds himself drifting up to the third floor to spend time with his friend. His _best friend_ , if he’s being honest. The time is flying by so quickly, he can’t believe they’re two months into school already. Fall break is next week with three days off, and Gladio , for once, is actually dreading it. He’s thinking about all the time he’ll have to spend training with the glaives, when he’d rather be sitting on a dusty old library couch doing _homework_ with...with her. 

He hears the toilet flush and the bathroom door squeaks open. He can’t help but smile when __________ emerges, washing her hands in the sink and drying them on the cheap printed washcloth hanging on the wall. He'd made himself comfortable on her bed, shoes and all. She sits by his feet, patting his shin, and Gladio feels warm all over. 

“Excuse me sir, this is my bed.” 

“I will remove myself under one condition.” 

“Oh, do tell.” 

“I’m out of dryer sheets,” Gladio sighs. “And the ones for sale in the vending machine in the laundry room make me itch.” 

“What a big, sensitive baby.” 

“Does this mean you’ll give me a dryer sheet?” asks Gladio, smirking. 

“Yes, I want my bed back. I was gonna nap.” 

“Aw dang, I was gonna challenge you to chess while my clothes washed.” 

“Loser buys dinner in the caf tonight.” 

“Waffle station only, best three games out of five.” 

__________ grins and goes to her closet to grab her own hamper full of dirty clothes, along with a couple of detergent pods and the box of dryer sheets. “Deal.” 

Later, in the cafeteria, ___________’s pocket vibrates. She’s halfway through her waffle stack, piled high with maple syrup, bacon bits, and sausage crumbles. Gladio’d opted for more of a dessert vibe, drowning his in chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and sprinkles. It’d been a tough run, but Gladio had ultimately lost, despite his best efforts and long, thought-out strategies. 

__________ pulls her phone from her pocket to check the notification. Aside from King’s Knight messages about daily drops and boss raids, there’s a series of messages from Libra. Curious, she swipes open to read them. 

_Girl. Are you SURE you two aren’t going out_

_The way he looks at you holy shit_

_He’s_ _soooooo_ _flirty_

_Are you blind_

_Or seriously not interested????_

_GLADIOLUS AMICITIA LIKES YOU_

___________ can’t help but blush a little bit at her roommate’s string of texts. She sighs heavily, knowing that it’s not true. She looks at Gladio for a split second before replying. _You’re nuts lol, he doesn’t like me like that. We’re just friends. Besides I’m not really looking for a bf right now anyways._

“Everything okay?” Gladio asks, chugging a tall glass of milk. 

___________ nods, cutting another section of savory waffle. “Yeah, Libra’s just texting me about dumb stuff.” 

________ 

With midterms over and gone, the semester is barreling to an end at a faster pace than what Gladio expected. It’s colder now, way past the point of gym shorts and muscle tees. It’s Thursday night, and it’s the semi-finals of the intramural football season. The meager wooden benches on the small field are scattered with supportive friends and partners of each team. ___________ is on the front row of the stands, holding a large bottle of Gatorade and a reusable jug full of water. She’s clutching a steaming cup of apple cider, watching Gladio deftly maneuver in and around the other team, clutching the football in his big, powerful hands, jumping over downed players and thundering towards the endzone, sculpted thighs wrapped in white compression leggings. There are fifteen seconds left in the fourth quarter, and both teams are tied. 

____________ is screaming her lungs out as Gladio races towards his team’s goal, seemingly inches ahead of the opposing team’s player, who is reaching a long, toned arm out, trying to brush Gladio’s shirt and get enough of a grip to pull him down. But Gladio finds a sudden burst of energy and gets out of the reach of the other player, making the touchdown as the clock on the board reaches zero, giving the Starshells a 6-point win over the opposing Golden Cactuars. She places her cup of cider on the bench next to the other drinks and jumps up and down, clapping and shouting Gladio’s name in glee. The other Starshell players whoop and cheer, jumping up to chest bump Gladio and lift him up, slapping him on the back. __________ is nearly in tears with joy at her best friend, heart pounding and blood thundering behind her ears, cheering and shouting along with the other girls in the stands. The Starshells make a beeline for the benches, big sweaty guys coming up to hug and kiss their girlfriends in victory. 

Gladio sees his best friend on the bottom bleacher and speeds into a full run. He scoops her up in a full bear hug, burying his head in her neck. He feels her lock her ankles around his back instinctively, hugging him back, shaking with laughter. He can feel her pounding heartbeat as he squishes her plush body against him. 

“You did it! You did it!” she cries, squeezing him hard. 

“I had my good luck charm here,” he says, unwilling to let her go. The other guys are still hugging and kissing their girlfriends, and Gladio doesn’t want her to feel left out. 

“Wait,” she says, voice still shaking with adrenaline. “How are you holding me up right now?” 

Gladio grins. “Uh, I’m strong. I can bench press like...three-fifty last time I checked.” 

“I’m heavy, put me down, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

___________’s breath is hot against his neck where she’s whispering. Gladio shivers involuntarily. “You’re not too heavy for me.” He pulls away slightly and finds his lips drifting closer and closer to her cheek, just about to kiss her—but he pulls away at the last second. _What am I doing?_ Gladio sets her feet-first on the frost-tipped grass below, hoping she didn’t notice his apparent lack of judgement. She beams up at him innocently, chubby round face flushed red, bright eyes crinkling at the corners, glasses half-covered in fog. 

“I’m so proud of you, Gladio,” she says, grabbing his hand and squeezing. 

Gladio swallows hard and grins back. “I’m proud of me too, we’re in the finals. C’mon, let’s go get dinner at Kenny Crow’s to celebrate.” Gladio bends down to take his water jug and Gatorade. 

___________ trots off the field after her best friend, thinking about his full lips so close to her face. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the longest start, but the end is not too far away  
> Did you know, I'm here to stay
> 
> "After Midnight" Blink-182

“I can’t believe we have a month left of school,” __________ says, wrapping her coat tight around her as she powerwalks to keep up with Gladio’s long strides. “First semester of college, over already.” She beams up at her friend. “So, was college everything you thought it would be? I...I mean, so far.” 

Gladio slows down, gripping the straps of his backpack. He looks down at ___________, and is suddenly struck by the sunlight reflecting from her _____ hair. “I mean, I would say so,” he says. “Y’know, I was really just ready to dick around and play football and go to parties and hook up and stuff, but...” He shrugs. “I really haven’t felt compelled to do any of that. I mean, other than the football part.” 

“I wouldn’t know about any of that,” _________ says, kicking some crunchy leaves on the sidewalk. “I mean, y’know. The frat parties and stuff.” 

Gladio raises an eyebrow. “Hey, I tried to invite you,” he teases, nudging her with his elbow. 

“It’s just not my scene, I guess. I don’t even know what alcohol _tastes_ like.” 

“Yeah, you are pretty sheltered,” laughs Gladio. “Wait, you’ve never even had a drink? You’re legal, though.” 

“Eh, my mom is pretty conservative on that stuff.” __________ shrugs. “It’s okay. I mean I guess I’ll do it eventually but I’m not in any hurry.” 

“You didn’t go to any parties in high school?” 

They reach the residence hall, and Gladio digs his student ID from his wallet and holds it up to the scanner by the door, and the light on the pad beeps green. 

“Thanks,” _________ mutters as Gladio holds the door open. “And buddy, I wasn’t even _invited_ to parties. No one wanted to hang out with the geeky fat girl. I mean I had some friends, but I wasn’t popular. We mostly bonded over anime and video games. I wasn’t, y’know. Skinny or popular, or an athlete or a cheerleader, I wasn’t on student council. I was a teacher’s pet and an overachiever. Most classmates only talked to me if they were looking for a study buddy or a tutor. Or to just straight-up copy my homework. Which...I’d let them, just to be left alone from merciless teasing.” 

“I’m sorry,” says Gladio, as they climb the stairs. “You can tell your high school to fuck off, because I think you’re great.” 

They reach the top of the landing that leads to the first floor boys’ hall. ___________ sniffs a little and looks up at Gladio, smiling softly. 

Gladio’s heart nearly shatters. “Hey, what’s wrong? Don’t—don’t cry, please. I can’t stand it when girls cry.” He reaches out to thumb away the tears under her right eye, bumping her glasses. 

“Sorry—” ___________ sniffs hard. “I’m...I’m just happy, y’know? Like college is so, so different. And I feel like I can breathe and be who I really am. I’m in a few clubs that cater to my interests. I can choose to be alone, or I can choose to be with people. I’m encouraged to actually hunker down and do work. And I...I made a friend like you.” She smiles big, closing her eyes and crashing into his chest. 

Gladio hugs her back fiercely, shaking his head. “I’m so glad we’re friends,” he says. “It’s like we kinda balance each other out, y’know?” He tries to let go, but _________ just keeps on hugging him, so Gladio stays, warmth blossoming from deep within him and spreading from his toes to his ears. 

“I never really had boys who were friends,” she says, muffled. “But you’re really different.” 

“I’m more than some meathead jock,” Gladio laughs, squeezing tighter. 

“So I’ve learned,” __________ laughs back, finally relaxing. 

Gladio steps back and wipes her tears away again. “I’m glad I’m different,” says Gladio. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “So, you doing anything this afternoon? It’s Friday, we could go to the mall or something?” 

“I thought you have Citadel training after class?” 

Gladio grins. “Not today, I’m off. With it being so close to finals, I’m only at the Citadel three days a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. The other days I’m just expected to keep active at the gym.” 

“Oh, cool.” __________ nods. “Uh, yeah. We can go to the mall. Let me go run upstairs and drop my backpack off.” 

________ 

___________ peers at the bright LED lights of the digital clock on her desk yet again. It’s one am, and she feels even more restless than ever. _It’s probably just nerves,_ she thinks. Finals are next week, and the last couple of weeks of classes have been filled with reviews, final projects and papers, and tons of library time. Even though tomorrow’s eight am history class is optional, she feels compelled to go, to maximize any opportunity for learning and reviewing the semester’s material. Her thoughts drift aimlessly for a while, and not even Libra’s even breathing and white noise machine are lulling her to sleep right now. __________ turns to settle on her back, sighing deeply. She thinks at this point, she might as well sit up and study, or at least read, when her thoughts finally settle on Gladiolus. 

Tall, gorgeous, smart, sweet Gladio. ___________ has never known anyone like him—and certainly not so personally. In high school, the jocks were ambivalent towards her, at best. Most didn’t even know she existed; the ones that did acknowledge her certainly didn’t want to be her friend. Most guys looked at her like she had three heads, or was diseased—boyfriends were never a question. It was just a universally-understood thing that the fat girls didn’t get dates. College, though—college is different. She sees people of all sizes all over campus, being friends with each other, holding hands (or having sex in the library, gross)—so, __________ is hopeful. If someone as beautiful and as charming as the noble Amicitia son can be her friend without irony or ulterior motive, then maybe, someday, she’ll have a shot at someone who loves her for who she is. 

It’s here that things fall into dangerous territory—because __________’s thoughts drift to _Gladio_ himself being her boyfriend. What would it be like to kiss those full, wide lips? For those bright honey-amber eyes to look at her like she’s the only girl in the world? For that deep baritone voice to whisper in her ear that she is both fat and beautiful, and fuck what society thinks? What would those big, warm hands feel like all over her body—squeezing her ample chest, her fat tummy, thick thighs? What would his chiseled naked body feel like against hers, the juxtaposition of hard muscle and soft fat? ____________ shivers, starting to feel too warm under her blanket. She’s only ever touched herself a handful of times since school started, and having a roommate affords little to no privacy, but __________ finds her hand trailing down her stomach and beneath the elastic of her comic book-print pajama pants and her underwear. She exhales softly as her chubby fingers find her folds, which are already slick with the thought of Gladio _wanting_ her. She bites her lip and rubs her clit, teasing herself while trying to stay as still as possible so as to not wake Libra. Goosebumps erupt all over as she wonders what his cock would feel like inside of her, stretching her open for the first time. She wonders if he’s as big as the rumors say—yes, she’s heard rumors. Insomnia, for being the huge crown city that it is, can sometimes feel remarkably small. Gladio’s such a public figure, it’s hard not to even have a cursory knowledge about him. Libra herself had even said that he’d had sex with multiple people already, numbers into at least the double digits. 

__________’s hand speeds up, pushing down hard on her clit, pressure mounting and mounting as pleasure ripples from her toes to her ears. She gasps softly, whispering Gladio’s name as she imagines him all over her, inside of her—kissing, biting, putting his mouth between her legs, fucking her and being her first. Her orgasm crashes into her like a ton of bricks as she writhes under her covers, bucking against her own hand and flooding her panties with her release. 

__________ is still shaking in the aftershocks as, boneless and sated and sweaty, she finally drifts off to sleep. 

_______ 

They’re eating lunch in the café, biding time until their next final, books and notes open on the tables beside their food trays. ____________ is holding a hamburger in one hand, and a long list of color-coded notes in the other. Gladio’s sipping a milkshake while idly looking over his notes. The cafeteria isn’t that crowded, most students holed up in their dorms or the library, prepping for the end-of-semester exams. They eat and study in relative silence, occasionally throwing out quiz questions to one another; but then, Gladio registers someone approaching their table in his peripheral vision. 

“Oh, hey Maria!” 

___________ looks up and gives the girl a once-over. She’s a tall, leggy brunette, dressed in designer athleisure wear from head to toe, pretty green eyes lined with heavy makeup. _Maybe if I looked like her,_ _Gladio_ _would date me,_ she thinks guiltily. She murmurs a weak “hello” and gets back to her food, suddenly self-conscious about her choice of lunch. 

“Hey Gladdy,” says the lilting, high-pitched voice. “Um, listen—I had a lot of fun with you at the last Sigma Chi party.” Maria giggles and twirls her wavy supermodel hair. “Um, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the downtown Christmas parade with me next weekend, after finals are over.” She bats her lashes and shows off her perfectly straight, pearly white teeth. 

Gladio just stares for a second, eyes momentarily flicking to his best friend’s face across the table. He notices that her cheeks are red as she slowly chews her burger and looks over her notes. He turns back to Maria. “Hey, yeah. I had fun talking to you too. But unfortunately, I already had plans for the parade.” 

“Oh,” says Maria, nodding. “Okay, yeah, I get it. Um, do you want to go out maybe after that? Or, before?” 

Realization blooms on Gladio’s face, and he softens his gaze. “Oh, you meant—Maria, I’m sorry. I’m not...” 

“Oh, you’re—it’s fine, Gladio. Forget it. See you around.” She sighs, shoulders sagging, as she turns sharply on her heel and makes her way back across the cafeteria. 

“Damn,” says Gladio. “I hate doing that.” 

_________ finally looks up from her book. “Why didn’t you want to take her out?” 

Gladio shrugs. “I dunno, I mean, she’s hot, but we don’t have anything in common, really. Nothing to be friends over. She doesn’t even like Kenny Crow’s.” 

__________ scoffs incredulously. “Who doesn’t like Kenny Crow’s? The _bacon fries_!” 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Gladio laughs. “You don’t think I was too harsh?” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t know. You were very apologetic about it.” She pauses. “But wait. You’re just going to the Christmas parade with me.” 

“Correct.” 

__________ tilts her head. “But, you could’ve gone with her, if you really wanted to? At least had one date just to see.” 

Gladio shakes his head. “I already said I’m going with you. We’re going. And we’re gonna get hot chocolate and meat skewers and noodles at the food trucks and look at the Christmas lights.” 

___________ just stares at Gladio as he goes back to sipping his milkshake, flipping the page in his political science textbook. 

“So Maria asked me out today.” Gladio gets back to his dorm to change into gym clothes and do a little running around campus. Sol is there, cross-legged on his bed, laptop and books open around him. 

“Maria...Maria Tremellius? Vice president of Alpha Delta Phi?” Sol looks up from typing. 

“Yeah,” says Gladio. “I mean, we kinda got a little flirty at the Sig Chi party last week. We were both tipsy.” 

“So, did you?” 

“Did I what?” 

“Are you going out with her?” 

Gladio shakes his head as he pulls off his sweater and jeans, digging for his running leggings and a long-sleeve shirt. “I turned her down.” 

“You’re nuts,” says Sol. “She’s so hot.” 

“I mean yeah, but...there really wasn’t any chemistry under the surface. I mean sure, we could fuck and it’d be fun, but...” Gladio shrugs. “I dunno, I guess I’m seeing things differently now that I’m out of high school. I’d like to have a basis of friendship first.” Gladio finishes dressing and laces up his running sneakers. “You need anything while I’m out?” 

“If you say so,” says Sol, still shaking his head. “She’d be a good match for you, family lineage-wise, y’know. And no, I’m good. Thanks though.” 

Gladio shrugs. “Maybe I’ll hit it off with another family’s heir soon. But my dad really hasn’t started to pressure me in the marriage department yet, so I’m not in a rush.” Gladio takes his key from his lanyard and shoves it, his phone, and his student ID into the side pocket of his leggings, heading off into the late afternoon to run off the stress of finals. 

_______ 

Christmas Day rolls around, and Gladio is seated around his dining-room table with his father and Iris. He’s set to have an intimate dinner with Ignis, Noctis, and Prompto later, but for now, it’s just his family. But Gladio glances across the table at one of the empty chairs, and feels a sinking feeling in his chest as he remembers the conversation as he and __________ were packing their essentials to go home for the holiday break. 

_Got any big plans for the holidays?_

_Not really, ________’d said. My family is_ _kinda_ _scattered all over the country so we don’t see each other much. Dad left years ago so it’s just me and mom. We probably won’t even have traditional food, it’s kind of expensive. We usually go across the city to the refugee district for cheap cuisine, and the_ _Galahdians_ _are always so nice to us._

“Eos to Gladiolus.” His father’s voice cuts through Gladio’s memories. “Son?” 

Gladio shakes his head and turns to look at his father and his sister. The table is full of roasted duck, honey-baked ham, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, various gravies, steamed carrots, rolls, and croissants. Their fridge is ready and waiting with too many desserts for Gladio to count. “Uh, dad,” he says. “I have...I have this friend. I don’t think she and her mom have much of a Christmas. Is it...is it okay for them to come over?” 

“Of course,” says Clarus, smiling. “Our house is always open to those in need, Gladio.” 

“Yay, a new friend!” quips Iris, grinning from ear to ear. “Who is she, Gladdy? Is she nice? Is she pretty? What’s she like?” 

Gladio digs his phone from his jean pocket and brings up the familiar contact. “I’ll just let you judge all that for yourself, sis.” 

“Mr. Amicitia, I cannot thank you enough for having us over for lunch.” Mrs. _________ wipes her mouth again, patting her round stomach in the aftermath of the pumpkin pie, macarons, fruit cake, and chocolate fudge. 

Clarus smiles and takes another swig of his wine. “My pleasure. Any friend of Gladio’s is welcome here.” He shoots a soft glance at ___________’s sitting next to Iris and entertaining her most recent round of twenty questions. “Iris, why don’t you go play with your new presents?” 

“Ooooooh, yes! C’mon, __________, I wanna show you my new dollhouse!” 

___________ laughs and nods, allowing herself to be dragged away from the table by the excitable tween. 

“Guess I’ll go supervise,” says Gladio, rising. “Good to see you again, Mrs. _________.” 

Once Iris has passed out into a food coma on her frilly pink bedspread, __________ and Gladio meander to his room. 

“Gladio, I really don’t know what to say,” __________ says, sitting on his bed. “Today was...really special. One of the best Christmases we’ve had—I've had—in long time. Maybe ever.” 

“Ah, don’t sweat it!” says Gladio, taking off his colorful Christmas vest and tie, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt and flopping in his desk chair with his hands behind his head. He’d had some wine with lunch, so Gladio’s feeling warm and full. He gazes at his best friend with affection, so glad that he was able to give her a good holiday. She’s dressed in a green plaid dress with black tights and black flats, a sparkly headband in her chin-length hair. Gladio watches as she digs into her dress pocket—Gladio knows how much dresses with pockets mean to girls—and brings out a small black box, secured with a ribbon. 

“Um,” she says quietly. “Sorry if—if this is weird or whatever. But um. Merry Christmas.” She looks at him with pink-dusted cheeks and Gladio feels hot, even though he’s taken off his silk tie. 

Gladio takes the box and touches her fingers in the process. He doesn’t shy away immediately. “Thank you,” he says. “You know you didn’t have to get me anything.” 

“Well, I didn’t exactly...just open it, silly,” she says as she withdraws her hand. 

Gladio unties the ribbon and lets it fall to his lap, opening the box. Nestled on white foam is a beaded black and gold pendant, ending in two gold skull beads and a dangling “X.” His jaw drops—he'd never really worn jewelry before, other than a fitness tracker, and a woven friendship bracelet one of his first girlfriends had made for him sophomore year of high school. “Oh, __________,” he says, gently lifting it. “It’s...it’s really pretty.” 

“Do you think so? Um, I thought it was kinda your style. I saw the idea in a craft magazine my mom had, and I’m not a professional beader or anything, but I thought it turned out okay.” 

“I’ve never really worn a necklace before,” says Gladio. 

“Oh, that’s--that’s okay!” __________ panics, waving her hands in front of her in defense. “You don’t have to if you don’t like it, um, I just--” 

“No, I love it,” says Gladio, flicking open the lobster clasp and putting it around his neck, fumbling for the other hook. Once he’s sure that it locked, he lets it fall against his bare skin, pulling back his dress shirt to see it lying against his chest. 

___________ is shamelessly ogling the bare patch of tanned, chiseled skin, swallowing hard. “Um. It looks good, Gladio. Are you sure you like it?” 

Gladio rises and crosses to the full-length mirror on the wall next to his closet. He looks at himself in the mirror, picking up the beaded pendant and rubbing it between his fingers. “I love it,” he confirms again, turning and grinning wide. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” 

___________ gives Gladio a winning smile. “Merry Christmas, Gladio.” 

Gladio’d been so busy that he hadn’t had time to think about a Christmas gift, but now the gears are turning. He suddenly wants to spoil this girl rotten. “Merry Christmas, ___________.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't keep your voice out of my head  
> All I hear are the many echoes of  
> The darkest words you said  
> And it's driving me crazy
> 
> "After Midnight" Blink-182

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated nor do I work for Wizards of the Coast or any production teams behind Dungeons and Dragons and related media. 
> 
> _____  
> Author's Note: Reader's early childhood experiences with weight gain and family reactions are 100% based on my own experiences. Sorry to get so self-inserty, but I just kinda felt like getting all of that out on paper. (Er. Internet. You know what I mean.)

“Okay...open your eyes!” Gladio sets the two large gift bags in front of __________. Winter break is almost over, and most students are back in the residence halls now, the Thursday before classes resume. They’re in __________’s room; Libra is across campus with her boyfriend. ___________ opens her eyes and stares at the two big peppermint-striped bags. She stares at Gladio in awe. “Gladio, I _told_ you that you didn’t have to get me anything!” 

Gladio fingers the necklace that’s around his neck, nestled against the off-white cable-knit sweater that’s stretched across his chiseled body. “I know, and I decided not to listen. C’mon, I don’t have a girlfriend or anything, so...let me spoil you instead, as my best friend.” 

“I don’t want you to think I’m only friends with you because you’re nobility, y’know.” 

“I don’t think that at all. If anything, I’m the one that bullied you into hanging out with me.” 

___________ giggles. “Well, you have a point there. But at this point, I think the best friend feeling is mutual.” She sighs and picks up one of the bags, setting it on her wide lap. “Gods, Gladio, it’s so heavy.” 

“Just open it.” 

____________ begins to pull out the red and white tissue paper, and her eyes grow to saucers as she peers inside. “Gladio, this is...” She reaches in and pulls out a book. “All of our spring semester textbooks?” She looks up at him with tears in her eyes. “But...these are so expensive! You don’t mean to tell me that you bought both your books and mine?” 

Gladio shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.” 

“It’s...it’s so much...” She sniffs. “I can’t let you do this. My scholarship money comes in at the end of next week, I’m going to pay you back for these.” 

Gladio shakes his head. “You’ll do no such thing. It’s a gift, okay? Save your money for other things that you really need. You mentioned saving for a car, right? Put it in savings.” 

___________ peers into the large bag of books in awe. “I can’t believe you did this.” 

“Merry late Christmas,” says Gladio, smiling softly. 

“Wait,” ___________ says, setting the bag to the side. “Did you get the same classes as me just so you could buy my books?” 

Gladio swallows, avoiding her gaze. “Uh,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe?” 

“Oh gosh, you’re such a stalker!” ____________ laughs out loud, holding her stomach and falling sideways on her bed. “I can’t believe you.” 

Gladio feels warm all over. “Believe it!” he says, in his best Naruto impression. 

____________ sits back up, beaming at Gladio. “For such a meathead jock, you’re pretty geeky. And nerdy.” 

“What can I say? I’m a multifaceted man, baby.” Gladio laughs, nodding towards the other gift bag. “C’mon, second gift time.” 

“I’ve had one gift, yes—but what about second gift?” 

“Okay, Miss Hobbit.” Gladio grins. “C’mon, open it! I’m dying here.” 

“Okay, okay.” ____________ lifts the second bag, which is lighter than the first, but still bulky. She reaches in and pulls out more tissue paper, hands falling on smooth fabric. She clutches it and pulls out a pair of skull-print leggings. “Leggings?” 

“Athletic leggings,” says Gladio. “I, uh. Kinda guessed on the size, but they’re meant to be compression, so fitted. But if they don’t work, we can exchange them.” 

“They’re super cool, but...” 

“Just look at the rest and it’ll make sense.” 

She reaches in and pulls out an underwire sports bra, a second pair of leggings—galaxy print—two athletic tank tops, a hoodie, a new pair of designer running shoes, a second sports bra, and an insulated water bottle. 

“Gladio, I... this is too much.” ____________ recognizes the style and brand of the exercise gear—she's looked at it online multiple times, but she’s never had the money for it. “I can’t...I can’t accept all this.” 

“No,” says Gladio firmly. “I want you to have all of this. Because I’m going to ask you to come to the gym with me a couple of times a week.” 

___________ tilts her head. “But why?” 

“I think it’ll be good for you. I think it might help you sleep better, for one.” 

“But I sleep fine.” 

“You don’t though, buddy.” Gladio reaches out to softly stroke the dark circles under her eyes. “The last six weeks of school, you drank _so_ much coffee.” 

__________ sighs, blushing under Gladio’s feather-light touches. She doesn’t shy away. “I mean...I guess you’re right.” What she _doesn’t_ say is that half the time she’s staying up late, waiting for Libra to go to bed, so that she can get off to lewd thoughts of him. “I just have a love-hate relationship with exercise.” 

“Hey, the weight thing. I get it.” 

“You don’t, though.” 

“Okay, correct, I have never been fat. But I have dedicated a lot of years to fitness and nutrition. So, think of it this way—think of exercise as a celebration of what the body can do, rather than a punishment for something you ate.” 

“You’re not gonna make me start doing push-ups if I eat cupcakes at lunch?” 

Gladio shakes his head. “Never. Listen. Just go with me at _least_ twice a week for a month. If you hate it, I won’t push it anymore.” 

___________ looks at the nice, trendy workout gear and nods. “Okay. I’ll try it.” 

“Also, exercise helps build stamina, strengthen your immune system. You could join a yoga class, increase your flexibility.” Gladio winks. “That definitely helped me in the, uh. Bedroom department.” 

__________ smirks. “Of course you’d say that.” 

“Hey, just bein’ honest.” Gladio sits back and stretches. “Exercise also helps you live longer and maintain bone health. You can outlive all of your high school bullies. It also reduces stress. Sometimes when I’m feeling too overwhelmed, I just go out and run, or go train with the Crownsguard back at the Citadel, and my mind clears up after I’ve sweated for a while. It also improves your mood—your brain releases endorphins during rigorous activity, y’know.” 

“I can’t do much. Walking up the stairs already gets me winded. You think I’d have gotten used to them by now but I haven’t.” 

Gladio grins. “You can start out slow. No one is expecting you to be able to run a marathon after a week. Even if all you wanna do is powerwalk on the treadmill for like thirty minutes, that’s cool.” 

“I could study while walking,” __________ muses. “Or watch anime on my phone!” 

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Gladio claps his hands in glee. “Two thirty-minute anime episodes and bam! You’re done.” 

“It’s so easy to slip into that mindset though,” __________ says, voice dropping. “When I was younger, when we lived outside of Insomnia, my well-meaning grandparents would watch me a lot. And I started getting fat around like, third grade. We didn’t know why, until I was older and diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome. _I_ certainly didn’t know why. It felt like almost overnight. One day I was just too big for laps, for being picked up and held, for piggyback rides. Christmas became a nightmare because I literally had mall Santas fat-shame me and make a big deal about me sitting on their knee to tell them I just wanted some new fucking books to read.” 

___________ sniffs hard, clutching the pile of clothes on her lap. “I just didn’t understand. I didn’t eat more than other kids. I was so active. I was in dance lessons for forever, I was always running around with the neighborhood kids. I swam, I biked, I played flag football at recess. By fifth grade I was a pariah, with boobs and hips already. By age twelve I was already like two hundred pounds and having to shop in the drab-as-hell plus size women’s section in department stores.” She blinks at Gladio through teary eyes. “The little boys who grew up with me suddenly started calling me names. And my grandparents...it was like fat was the worst thing I could be. They started restricting snacks when I came over to their house. I couldn’t have more than eight ounces of a soft drink. I could only eat fruit as a snack before or after dinner. I knew where shit was hidden and when they were in another room, I’d sneak cookies and chips. And when I got to their house after school, while my mom was still working, they _made_ me exercise before I could even just sit on the floor and play with fucking Barbie dolls to relax.” 

Gladio’s heart shatters into a million little pieces. He rises from __________’s desk chair and kneels in front of her, taking her warm, chubby hands in his own. “Hey,” he says, voice quivering with emotion. “I think you’re perfect how you are. That was shitty. Very shitty. Fat is definitely not the worst thing you can be. Everyone’s built different, y’know? Even if everyone ate the exact same things every day and did the same amount of activity, we’d still all look different. Fat isn’t bad, nor is it a personal failure. I’ve never thought that way about fat people, and I definitely don’t think that way about you.” Gladio swallows. “I’m sorry if I made you upset by this—that was not my intention, __________. I like you a lot. I thought the gym would be another fun thing we could do together. But if it drudges up painful memories, forget I said anything.” 

____________ sniffs and violently shakes her head. “No, it’s not you—it's a thoughtful gift, Gladio. I _do_ want to go with you. I know exercise is good for more than just weight loss. Maybe...maybe going with you will make it fun.” She wipes her face with one hand, immediately feeling cold once she’s out of Gladio’s strong grip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all emotional and dig up trauma that’s a decade old.” 

Gladio frowns. “No. You have every right to cry over it. It’s impacted your whole life, I can tell. I’m going to do my best to encourage you. You tell me if I’m being overbearing. And I promise I will never talk about exercise as a punishment, because I truly don’t see it that way.” 

“I do want to sleep better. And I do want more stamina, even if it’s just for walking up the stairs. And a better immune system.” 

Gladio smiles. “We’ll get there. I’ll help you.” 

__________ smiles back at her beautiful friend. “Thank you, Gladio. Thank you for being you.” 

“Right back atcha.” He withdraws his hands and pulls her into a crushing hug, his heart still breaking. 

________ 

“Hey, uh, __________, was it?” 

__________ turns as the literature professor dismisses their class, closing her book and her binder full of notebook paper. It’s the end of the second week of school, and she’s gotten to know a few of her classmates. Gladio’s in the desk in the row right beside her on the left. She looks at the bespectacled boy behind her, who’s sporting a black trench coat and fedora. “Hey, uh...” 

“James,” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose like an anime character. “Uh. Listen. Me and some of the other guys” --he motions to a few similarly-dressed boys further down the adjacent row of desk-chair combos-- “were wondering if you’d want to join our new D and D campaign we were starting.” 

“D and D...like Dungeons and Dragons?” 

“Yes, precisely. Have you ever played?” 

“I played one game in high school, off and on. I’m still very much a beginner.” She smiles brightly at her classmate. “But I’d love to play with you guys! Do you guys play at your dorm, or at the library...?” 

“At the comic book shop,” James says, packing up his own books. “Saturday nights from seven to eleven for starters—if we collectively decide to play more days, we’ll talk about that as the campaign gets started. It’s just, ah... We don’t get the opportunity to play with many girls, and you seemed...” 

“Geeky enough?” __________ laughs. “I do kinda fit the stereotype, huh? But yes! I’m so down. We start tomorrow?” 

“Definitely,” says James, bowing and tipping his hat. “Well met, m’lady. We shall see you at yonder Game Keep and Comic Shop. 

“Hey, wait,” says Gladio, shouldering his own backpack and standing, towering his six-foot-six height over the both of them. 

James just blinks up at Gladio, and __________ has to suppress a giggle when he actually gulps. 

“Yes?” says James, trying to find his voice again. 

“See, here’s the thing. __________ and I are a package deal. So if she’s playing D and D, then so am I.” Gladio grins and threads his arm around his best friend’s shoulder and squeezes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you two were...” James waves his hand flippantly. 

_________ panics and waves her hands in defense. “Oh, no! You've got it wrong! We’re not dating, uh! It’s not like that.” She laughs awkwardly and looks up at Gladio. She can’t place the expression that’s taken over his handsome features. “Dude. You know how to play?” 

Gladio nods. “Believe it or not, me, Noct, and Iggy used to play all the time. It’s actually pretty good training for battle strategies.” 

“Get over here, you two,” James says, motioning to his other friends. 

They come barreling over, wide-eyed as they look up at Gladio. 

“Uh, hi,” _________ says. “I’m _________, and this is Gladiolus. James invited us to play D and D. Is that okay with you guys?” 

The two friends turn to James and lift eyebrows. “The girl can come,” says one, shorter and thinner than James. “Dunno about the normie?” He gives Gladio a once-over. “You ever played before?” 

“I have,” says Gladio, staring him down in an attempt to assert dominance. 

“What class?” 

“I’ve been a paladin, a barbarian, and a rogue.” 

“Interesting. Have you ever had a character die?” 

“Nope,” says Gladio. 

“Highest level that you’ve ever had a character?” 

“Twenty-five?” 

“What happened?” 

“I fucking graduated high school.” 

“Okay, okay,” says James, holding up a hand. “Octavian, what are you going to play this campaign?” 

The thin boy folds his arms and looks up at Gladio. “Dragonborn, fighter.” 

James nods. “Caius?” 

The other boy, who’s been silent until now, awkwardly puts his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Uh. Half-elf bard.” 

James looks at __________. “What would you play, my dear?” 

“Uh, I dunno. I mean I’ve really only ever played a rogue, but I’d like to do something different.” 

Gladio smirks and leans down to whisper in her ear. 

“Uh,” she says. “Half-orc barbarian?” 

“I’d play a halfling cleric,” says Gladio with finality. He looks towards the door and sees that even the professor is in the process of leaving the classroom. “So, see you guys tomorrow, yeah? I’m looking forward to it!” He drags _________ off with him, down the stairs of the language department building and out into the cold afternoon. 

“Gladio, you didn’t have to play if you didn’t want to. I know you have training and stuff,” __________ says, half-running in order to keep with Gladio’s gait. 

“Sorry,” says Gladio, looking down at her. “I just get a weird vibe from those guys.” 

“They seemed nice enough,” _________ shrugs. “A little awkward maybe, but that doesn’t make them bad.” 

“You didn’t notice the way they were looking at you?” 

They get to the university center. It’s not a question of _if_ they’re going to get a cup of coffee and a snack at the Ebony Roasters anymore, it’s _when_. Gladio holds the door open and ushers _________ inside, and they make their way to the back of the line. 

“Uuuuuh, no?” 

“Like you were...I dunno. Food.” Gladio scowls. “I don’t want you to be alone with them.” 

“I think you’re being a little judgy.” __________ folds her arms. “I can take care of myself. It’s just a game.” 

“Please just let me do this with you. I just want to protect you, is all. Okay? Besides, you don’t have a car. It’s not safe for you to walk across the highway away from campus that late at night, either.” 

__________ sighs, but ultimately nods. Gladio is a little more street smart than she is, and better at reading people. And she can’t deny the lack of transportation. She decides to trust his judgment. “Okay. So, what are you getting today?” She asks, pointing to the menu. 

_______ 

James folds his hands and levels his gaze at the party that’s seated around the plastic white table. “Okay, so you all are at the tavern. The minor lord, Lord Frederic, who’s in charge of the village, has heard tales of a wandering band of heroes, and seeks to free his village from Silvertongue the Green Dragon, who lies in slumber in the nearby Neverwinter Woods. The lord explains that he and the villagers are terrified—Silvertongue scorches the ground, rendering most crops unviable for growth. He steals livestock on a whim, and demands regular offerings of coin. The village is in dire straits, having to import food from other part of the country; but, with dwindling coin due to the dragon’s greed, it won’t be long before the lord will have nothing in his coffers with which to pay for imports.” James clears his throat. “The lord begs you for help, promising fame and half of the dragon’s fortune, should you succeed in killing the winged terror.” He points to Gladio. 

“My turn?” says Gladio. 

“Yes, uh...Seraphina?” 

“Seraphina Tealeaf, at your service,” says Gladio in a higher pitch than his normal voice, but he’s so good at acting that it doesn’t sound weird at all. He’d explained at the beginning of the night that he usually plays a female D and D character, just to be different. “Devoted subject of Yondalla and Cyrrollalee. I vote to unequivocally help the lord and the citizens of this town, because I have been chosen by my goddesses to prove myself worthy of a great quest. However, something strikes me about the lord. I have an uneasy feeling. Can I pressure him for more information?” 

“Roll for intelligence.” 

Gladio takes his glittery orange die in his hand and rolls. “Eighteen,” he grins, cracking his knuckles. 

James smirks. “The lord admits that you are not the only adventurers he has asked to take on Silvertongue. Therefore, you are in a competition of sorts. There can only be one party who wins.” 

“Bastard,” mumbles Gladio. 

“Woah, language, from the _cleric_!” laughs Caius. 

James laughs. “Okay. Does the party still accept the terms of Lord Frederic?” 

Everyone nods, and James points at ___________. “Now to our barbarian. Uh, Keth, was it?” 

__________ smiles, nodding. She looks at Gladio, who lifts an eyebrow and shoots her wone of his dashing, lopsided smiles, making her heart race just a little faster than normal. “Keth Bloodbeater, champion of the tribe of Thrar,” she says, dropping her voice a little lower than normal. “Son of Chief Gork of Thrar.” 

“ _Ah, the famed half-orc prince of_ _Thrar_ , Lord Frederic exclaims. If anyone can slay the terrible Silvertongue, I know you can. The tribe of Thrar from the northern lands has long been a strong ally to southern kingdoms. You, Prince Keth, are proof of that alliance, when Lady Bronwyn married your father all those years ago.” James tilts his head. “Do you pry Lord Frederic for more information, Keth, or do you want to do another action?” 

Gladio tries to suppress a laugh, because he knows what’s coming next. 

__________ clears her throat. “Um. I thank Lord Frederic for his praises and the acknowledgment of the alliance between my tribe and the humans. I vow to either kill Silvertongue and restore prosperity to his village, or die trying. But,” she says, giving Gladio a side-eye. “I have suddenly become enamored with Seraphina. Her calm nature and passion for her goddesses have captured my heart.” 

“Oh gods,” laughs Octavian. “Are you really going to be horny for the cleric this entire campaign?” 

“Hey, we need a subplot,” says Caius, grinning. “I’m dying to watch this. A half-orc and a halfling. __________, your character is like three feet taller than Gladio’s!” 

“It’s about the size difference,” __________ says, licking her lips shamelessly. 

“Let’s get on with it,” sighs James, rubbing his temples. “Keth. Either make an action, or it’s Octavian’s turn.” 

“Hey, don’t rush true love,” mumbles __________, tucking her hair behind her ears. 

Gladio stretches and flexes, putting his arm around the back of __________’s chair. 

“Um. Right. I turn to the cleric and smile, showing off my impressive fangs. I set my battle axe on the table and flex, hoping to impress her and win her attention.” 

“Roll for charisma.” 

___________ takes her pink D20 in hand and rolls. “Oh, gods,” she laughs. “Nat twenty Plus my charisma is a base twelve, so that gives me a plus one modifier.!” 

“Are you fucking...” James peers over his trifold board to look at her die. He sighs again. “You stare Seraphina Tealeaf dead in the eyes as you stand up to your full height of six feet, ten inches, winking at her and flexing your rippling muscles.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head, looking at Gladio. “Seraphina, your response?” 

Gladio grins. “I gaze up at the hunky half-orc and feel myself blush. I am completely overcome by his display of strength, and his noble nature. The praises of Keth of Thrar have made it to even the Tealeaf Clan, and I am flattered by his attentions.” 

“Can I do another charisma roll?” says, ___________, feeling confident. “For a kiss on the cheek. Uh. If the lady allows it.” 

“Have at it,” says James, resigned to his fate of __________’s and Gladio’s in-character flirting. 

____________ rolls. “Seventeen, plus my ability score and modifier...” 

“If the halfling allows—” he looks to Gladio, who laughs and nods. “You pick Seraphina up, her four-foot frame draped in long green and gold robes, emblazoned with the crest of Yondalla, a cornucopia overflowing with bountiful vegetables. You confess you have become stricken speechless by her beauty, and ask if you might give her a kiss on the cheek as a sign of your undying affection.” 

“I move to kiss the cleric.” 

“Charisma roll,” says James, again. “I am determined to thwart you.” 

____________ rolls and grins. “Nat twenty, again.” 

“Oh good grief. Fine. You kiss the halfling and then set her back down on the bench. Are you through?” 

“Yep!” says ___________, grinning as she looks at Gladio, who’s struggling to hold his composure. 

“Great! Moving on.” James coughs. “Octavian, your go. Kriv Turnuroth, dragonborn, has decided that Silvertongue poses a great deal of threat to the village. However, being descended from dragons, he cannot help but still feel some kinship with the beast. Lord Frederic looks at you hesitantly, hoping he has not offended your kind. He says that he has tried to reason with Silvertongue on multiple occasions, and expresses true sorrow at having to resort to slaying the dragon. He says that if you, Kriv, can persuade Silvertongue to fly north to the mountains, he will still honor the deal he is making with the adventurers, and will consider the dragon as good as dead if it leaves Neverwinter Wood...” 

While James guides the other players in their turns, Gladio and ____________ look at each other and burst out laughing, eager to continue their unlikely in-game romance for the remainder of the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all better appreciate the HELL out of this D&D campaign, I was looking up stuff for forever, so I hope I wrote it right. It's been a long time since I properly played.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold on as we crash into the earth  
> A bit of pain will help us suffer when you're hurt  
> For real 'cause you were driving me crazy
> 
> "After Midnight" Blink-182

The incessant beeping slowly brings Libra Cantelli to consciousness, the calming sounds of her white noise machine fading into the background. Vaguely, she registers the blaring noise as a fire alarm, and scrambles to remove her ear plugs and sleep mask. She grabs her pink rhinestone wrist keychain with her room key and student ID holder attached, fumbles into the sneakers by her bed, and crosses over to the other bed. 

“Hey girl,” she mumbles to __________, in between yawns. “Hey, babe, it’s a fire drill. C’mon. I’ve got my ID and our key, you just need some shoes.” Libra can hear the panic outside in the hall, the other girls shouting and the opening and slamming of doors, as well as the RAs’ knocks trying to make sure everyone is getting out. 

__________ whispers something incoherently but slips off her sleep mask as well, grabbing a hoodie and sneakers and shakily putting them on. She blinks dazedly at Libra and huffs. “I was sleepin so good,” she mumbles, finding words. 

“I know,” chuckles the other girl, ruffling her hair. “C’mon, before we get in trouble.” 

The two girls join the throng of freshmen, leaning on each other as they make their way down the stairs and outside into the chilly night, shuffling towards the parking lot like a horde of the undead. The guys are mostly already out there as the male RAs do a head count. __________ scans the crowd of boys and zeroes in on Gladio, breaking away from Libra and making a beeline for him. 

Gladio grins as he sees __________ scrubbing at her face and stumbling over half-asleep feet. He opens his long arms wide and _________ crashes into him, all sleepy and warm and soft. Gladio hugs her back fiercely, chuckling as he stumbles back as she throws all of her weight at his middle. 

“Good evening, sleeping beauty,” Gladio whispers as he pushes his face into her hair, still laughing. He can smell her mint shampoo, and she’s all hot and pliant in his arms. 

__________ lets out a long groan as she nuzzles into Gladio’s hoodie, inhaling the scent of his aftershave and his deodorant. 

Gladio idly rubs her back as he watches the rest of the girls file out of the building and into the parking lot, with the two other RAs and the director trailing them. “You were sleeping, huh?” 

___________ nods and sniffs hard, shivering. “Cold,” she mumbles as she turns her head to the side to get a proper breath of air. 

Gladio rubs his hands up and down her back rapidly, trying to generate more heat on her chubby body. 

__________ clings to Gladio like a lifeline, the chatter of her fellow residents and the continuous blaring of the fire alarm fading into the background and falling into a rhythmic cacophony of sounds that echo her pounding heart as her brain slowly becomes more conscious. The feel of Gladio in her arms—his strong, lean body, firm under his soft hoodie and sweatpants; his natural musk mixed with deodorant, aftershave, days-old faded cologne still present on his school hoodie; tall and towering over her, protective and sweet and nothing less than dripping charisma and easy friendship, not to mention pure confidence and a swagger like no one she’s ever seen. 

Time seems to slow to an infinitesimal crawl as ___________ stands there hugging Gladio, even as he idly chatters with his roommate and some other guys from the dorm. He’s still lightly rubbing her back, and she’s closing her eyes, drifting off in his embrace, when suddenly, she twists a little and the top of her thigh pushes flush against Gladio’s groin—and that’s when she _feels_ it. She stiffens instantly, too embarrassed to even move, much less say anything. Though the sensation is muffled by his sweatpants, ___________ can feel Gladio’s dick, seemingly incredibly big, and _definitely_ hot and hard, even in the cold January night. 

_It’s nothing,_ she thinks. _Just a typical guy reaction, right? Probably because he’s warming me up when it’s so cold outside_. _He’s not saying anything so it’s probably nothing. It’s fine. Don’t make it awkward._

Gladio gulps as he feels ___________ brush against his groin, his traitorous dick seeking friction of any sort. It doesn’t help that Gladio was in the middle of a particularly sexy dream when the fire alarm had jolted him to consciousness. It probably also doesn’t help that he’s recently realized he hasn’t had sex since last July. His thoughts begin to run rampant. 

_Is he losing his edge? Do the hot, bleach-blonde sorority girls not do it for him anymore?_ He thinks about the dates he’s turned down from...five girls now, and counting? He’s drunkenly made out a few times at the frat parties, but it never went anywhere. He’s just...not really _clicking_ with any of them. Gladio wants a girl he can share a basket of Kenny Crow’s bacon fries with and not have them complain about the calories. He wants someone he can have fun with, genuinely— to watch movies with or play games with; and maybe someone who can hold up their end of a group project. Someone who’s kind and not superficial; who has a brain, who makes him laugh; who’s not only into him for his money or his last name or his royal connections. Is he asking for too much? 

Gladio sighs, willing himself not to grow any more interested as he hugs the sleepy girl in his arms. 

“Okay, everyone’s accounted for! Nice job everyone. You all made it out within our target time. Well done on the drill. Everyone can go back in now. Claire is your RA on duty, so if you’ve left your key, be sure to ask her to open your room,” the director, Kaya, shouts as everyone begins to shuffle back towards the building. 

“Come on buddy, time to go back to sleep,” Gladio says as he attempts to move forward. 

__________ mumbles something and Gladio looks down to see drool on his hoodie where her mouth is hanging open. He grins as Sol claps him on the shoulder. 

“Looks like your friend is out for the count, huh?” 

Gladio nods, untangling himself from her and swiftly picking her up, locking his hands under her thick thighs as she slumps over his shoulder. “Good thing I’m strong.” 

Sol gives Gladio a knowing glance as they make their way back into the dorm. Kaya stops him at the stairwell. “Gladio, it’s after midnight.” 

Gladio gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “C’mon, she’s barely conscious. Let me at least carry her to her room. That’s it, promise, then I’m off the girls’ floor for good.” 

Kaya sighs. “I’ll escort you.” 

Libra comes up behind Gladio and pats him on the back. “She fell asleep, huh?” 

Gladio grins, face flushing as he begins to ascend the stairs behind the residence hall director, ___________’s roommate close behind him. 

Libra unlocks their room and Kaya watches as Gladio ducks inside, kneeling on _________’s bed and lying her down with the gentlest of movements. She stirs, blinking her eyes open at the handsome face above her. 

“Drill over?” she slurs, wiping her mouth. 

“Drill’s over, buddy. See you tomorrow, okay? I have to go, I can’t be up here anymore.” Gladio’s heart clenches. What he wouldn’t give to curl up next to his best friend right now and fall asleep next to her. 

“Okaaaaaay,” she mumbles. 

“Gladio,” calls Kaya. “Come on. Back to your room.” 

And Gladio, overcome with an emotion he doesn’t yet have a name for, kisses _________ on the top of her head as her eyes fall shut. He rises and turns, waving goodbye to Libra as Kaya escorts him back down the stairs. 

“Holy shit,” says Libra as she locks the door and stumbles back into bed. “__________? Do you realize what he just did?” 

But her roommate is already fast asleep again, dozing off to the phantom feel of a certain boy in her arms. 

_______ 

Three weeks later, it’s ten o’clock on Sunday night—and since __________ has since learned her lesson about eight am classes (never again!), she’s hanging out in the community kitchen on the second floor, waiting for a pot of water to boil so she can make ramen noodles. She has a pack of ramen on the counter, as well as some chopped green onions, some sliced ham, an egg, and some soy sauce to add to it. She hasn’t seen much of Gladio today, which is weird, because he’s usually around on Sundays. She checks her phone for messages—nothing, with the exception of a good night text from her mom and a campus alert about freezing temperatures. 

A couple of guys emerge in the doorway from the stairwell, making a beeline past the study rooms and the laundry rooms, headed for the communal couches, tv, and video game console. _________ pretends to be absorbed in her phone as they pass her—but they slow down nonetheless. 

“Hey, aren’t you—you're Gladio’s girlfriend, right?” 

__________ whips her head around, eyes like saucers as she stares at the guys, mouth agape. “Whaaaaa--no!” She waves her hand, coughing. “You’ve got it all wrong, we’re not—we're not dating!” 

The guys look at each other, and then back to __________. “But you two are...literally always together,” says one. 

“He freakin’ carried you back up to your room during the fire drill,” says the other. 

__________ feels her face go hot, and vaguely registers the rolling boil of the water behind her as it splashes over the rim and onto the burner below. “He’s just—we're good friends, that’s all! So don’t go spreading dumb rumors,” she mumbles as she turns, opening the packet of noodles and dumping them into the pot. 

“Well, if you say so,” says the first boy, shrugging. 

The two wander off towards the couch and the tv, and ________ hears the tell-tale into music to Mortal Kombat a minute later. 

She can’t deny the knot in her stomach, though. If their dumb little freshman dorm has rumors about her and Gladio, then surely it won’t be long until other people hear about it, right? She starts to panic, heart beating faster. That’s it, she’s gotta stop being his friend. She’d rather be lonely than risk Gladio’s reputation. Tears start to pool at the corners of her eyes, and she sniffs hard, even as she stirs the noodles with a fork and adds all of her ingredients, cracking the egg into the pot last of all and trashing the shell in the nearby bin. 

The panic attack continues, through the cooking of the ramen, even after the burners are off and the contents are in one of the large communal bowls in the cabinets above the stove. ___________ tries to keep silent, lest she disturb the two oblivious guys on the couch who are virtually beating the shit out of each other, and ducks into one of the deserted study rooms, hoping to eat her ramen in peace. 

But because the Astrals are dead set on torturing __________ specifically, there’s a knock on the study room door about thirty minutes later. ___________ looks up and, of course, is greeted with Gladio’s handsome, smiling face. But his face falls in seconds as he notices her red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. He throws open the door. 

“Hey hey hey,” he says, getting even more upset as he hears her labored breathing and loud sniffles. The door clicks shut behind him as he kneels, putting a hand on __________’s shoulder, even as she turns away. 

“Glad-Gladio,” she manages, before breaking down into tears again. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” Gladio says, drawing her into his chest and nearly causing her to fall from the chair. “What’s wrong, what happened?” 

She shakes her head and cries even more when she noses into his neck and feels the cold beads of the necklace she’d made him for Christmas. 

“Did someone hurt you? Say something mean?” 

__________ shakes her head. 

“Bad grade on the science quiz we had last week?” 

_________ shakes her head again and attempts to quell the tears and get control of her breathing. “I just—um—people are, are _talking_ , and--” She lifts her head and sits up, looking at Gladiolus and squints her eyes. “People are thinking that we’re like— _together—_ and I just don’t...don’t want to ruin your reputation, or anything?” She wipes the tears from her eyes and gasps for a full breath. 

“Hey,” says Gladio. “I really hate when you cry.” 

“I’m sorry I just—I don’t want shit to get weird between us, Gladio, and I really like having you as a friend, and I don’t want you to be associated with me in that way if it’s gonna hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable.” 

“Sweetheart,” says Gladio softly, rubbing light circles on her bare knee. He tries not to look at her bare, chunky legs and think about how soft they’d feel. He drags his eyes up her old, worn sleep shirt and stares at her panicked face, snotty nose, tear-stained eyes behind slightly foggy glasses. “It’s not weird. You just tell people the truth, okay? That we’re friends. You’re not doing me any harm by associating with me, I promise promise promise.” 

_________ nods and gulps, exhaling long and slow. 

“Your snack smells good.” 

She smiles softly, motioning to the bowl of mostly-eaten noodles and shrugging. “It’s just ramen.” 

“Yeah? I love noodles. I think they’re my favorite food.” 

“I’m full—you can have the rest, if you want?” She turns and hands the bowl to Gladio. 

He stands and sits on the desk, wolfing down the last several bites of the noodles, even slurping the broth, leaving the bowl completely empty. Gladio looks down at his friend, who’s gazing up at him like he’s hung the moon. 

“Whaddaya think?” __________ says, still kind of sniffling. 

“I think I would pay you to cook this for me every day,” says Gladio. 

“Oh hush, it’s not all that.” 

“Mmmmmm, I think it is.” 

___________ laughs, shaking her head. “You’re being dramatic as hell.” 

“And I made you stop crying, so my job here is done. C’mon, I’ll help you wash the dishes.” 

_________ 

The more than __________ goes to the gym with Gladio, the less scary it seems. Once he’d convinced her that no one was sitting around looking at her while she worked out, the panic attacks lessened. She started off on the treadmill, but over the last couple of weeks, she’s moved on to one of the weight machines, feeling comfortable in sitting and lifting the weights with her legs while keeping her upper body still. __________ has also joined a twice-a-week yoga class with Gladio that’s held in one of the smaller rooms on the second floor of the gym. Already, she can feel herself getting a little more flexible, and not as winded as usual when she walks up the stairs. It’s been more than a month, and she hasn’t backed out yet, even though Gladio is mostly secluded in the free-weight section in the far corner of the vast downstairs space that’s filled with every type of gym machine and equipment one could imagine. 

It’s a Friday after class, and __________ had let Gladio talk her into some gym time before they go out to dinner. She’d opted for just the treadmill today; and Gladio’s running at a steady pace beside her. It’s really hard not to look at him while he’s jogging—sweaty, powerful body hitting the treadmill with precise footfalls, upper arms on display thanks to his sleeveless shirt. _________ feels hot all over and is determined not to eat shit on the treadmill--she’d never be able to show her face in here again. 

She’s feeling pretty good, so she ups the speed just a little so that she’s at a brisk walk; __________ pumps her arms and mouths in time to the rock music that’s blaring in her headphones. She focuses on watching the traffic move up and down the narrow street that separates the gym from the rest of the IU campus. 

Gladio increases the speed on his treadmill and adjusts the incline to give himself more of a challenge. He syncs his footfall with the heavy metal song reverberating through his wireless earbuds, feeling the familiar burn that comes with running at an incline. He finds his rhythm soon enough—but he makes the mistake of turning to the right to see how his friend ________ is doing on her walk. 

Gladio’s brain registers three things before he eats shit on the treadmill—first, is that he probably _definitely_ bought the wrong size sports bra because holy fuck, are her breasts bouncing _so much_ with the brisk pace that she’s keeping; two, is how he actually thinks he wants to touch them; and three, that he’s losing control of his life if he’s feeling this way about his best friend. 

“Shit, Gladio! Are you okay?” 

Gladio groans and finds himself flat on his back on the floor behind the still-running treadmill. He cracks open his eyes and sees __________ kneeling over him in panic. 

“What happened?” he manages, pressing fingers to his temple, and _ouch, okay, that hurts._

“I don’t know! One minute you were running and the next thing I know, you’re smacking face first on the belt and rolling to the floor!” 

Gladio squints his eyes shut, hissing in pain. He vaguely registers that his earbuds are no longer in his ears, but that’s the least of his worries. 

“Where are you hurt?” 

“Head,” he mumbles, attempting to sit up. Damn. He hopes that there are some potions lodged in Noct’s Armiger somewhere. He reaches out his hand and fumbles for the magical connection—and, thank the gods, the blue glass vial falls into his hand. 

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” ___________ says, sitting back on her haunches. 

Gladio opens his eyes as he sits and stares at the potion with blurry vision. “What,” he says, trying to orient himself. 

“That-that—what _was_ that?” 

Gladio uncaps the vial and chugs the contents, licking his lips once it’s empty. He sends the bottle back into the Armiger and hopes that he remembers to tell the prince to make more. He feels the pleasant tingling run from his head down to his toes, and within a minute, he’s less disoriented, and his throbbing head has fallen to a quiet, more manageable pain. 

“Uh,” he says finally, opening an eye and looking at __________. “Prince’s--king’s--Armiger. Uh. Magical link to weapons. And stuff.” 

“Was that—was that a potion?” 

Gladio nods. “What, you’ve never had one?” 

___________ shakes her head. “No. I mean I’ve heard of them, but they were always too pricey. I’ve just always dealt with cuts and scrapes and illness with regular ol’ painkillers.” She stares in awe at Gladio, who’s becoming more aware and seemingly less in pain with every passing second. The hair on her arms and on the back of her neck is still standing up from the crackle of magical energy Gladio’s just summoned. “I just...wow.” 

Gladio chuckles and looks up to his treadmill, speeding along without him like a chocobo who’s lost its rider. “I, uh. I think we’re safe to call it a day. Will you turn the treadmill off for me? My earbuds went flying.” 

“So what made you fall? And are you sure you’re okay?” 

They’re walking back to their residence hall to clean up and go eat dinner. Gladio flushes red and hopes that __________ think it’s the sharp, biting February wind. “Uh,” he says. “I dunno, I just...lost my footing. Don’t worry, it happens.” Except, the last time Gladio got yeeted off a treadmill, he was thirteen and overly-confident, not eighteen and sure-footed and _grown_. 

“If you’re sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m fine, the potion’s working, no sweat.” _I was just distracted by your boobs, no big deal._

__________ nods, accepting his answer. “So, uh. I heard the caf was having fried chicken for dinner. You down?” 

Gladio grins as he holds his student ID up to the pad by the front door; it beeps green and Gladio holds the door open for his friend. “You bet,” he says. “It sounds perfect.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to the Foy Rec Center at Austin Peay State University, where I practically lived my entire sophomore, junior and senior years of college, lmao.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Bite your lips, your word's a robbery  
> Do you grin inside, you're killing me"
> 
> "After Midnight" Blink-182

“Okay, you’ve been in a shit mood all day,” says Gladio, frowning over his dinner. They’re holed up in the coffee shop on campus—it's Friday night, and a music major is strumming along on an acoustic guitar in the far stage, crooning soft love songs to the small crowd of students. The meal of choice is the shop’s winter seasonal turkey and stuffing sandwich, layered with cranberry sauce and gravy on toasted ciabatta bread. Gladio’s drinking iced tea, and _________ has opted for the same, with a dessert of cranberry cheesecake bars for the both of them. 

“All week, actually,” Gladio continues. “What gives?” 

The girl across from him sighs, shaking her head and looking idly at the skinny guy with the guitar on the small raised dais. “It’s nothing,” she says quietly—sadly. 

Gladio huffs. He doesn’t understand why girls have to be so complicated. As weird as it’s been to not have a girlfriend in over half a year, he hasn’t missed the mixed signals and mood swings from the opposite sex. “It’s not _nothing_. You’ve been pissy all day,” Gladio growls. It’s not that he’s mad at __________, really—he feels mad that he doesn’t understand what’s going on. As someone who was literally born and bred to serve, his fierce protective nature naturally extends to more than just Prince Noctis and Ignis (and more recently, the prince’s new commoner friend, Prompto). Gladio wants to help _—needs_ to help. _“_ I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” Communication, right? The cornerstone of a good relationship. 

Gladio pauses, tilting his head at his friend as she slowly eats her sandwich and stares off into space. They’re not _in_ a relationship. Well—not a romantic one. A platonic one. So the communication thing still stands, right? Gladio clears his throat. “Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” 

___________’s head whips back to him, and she adjusts her glasses. “Of course not, you’re perfect.” 

Gladio gets a sudden knot in his stomach. Is he sick? He decides to shake it off. He’s tough. He can handle it. Maybe the fish sandwiches from the caf at lunch aren’t hitting right. “Okay, well. Then what? Was someone mean to you? Do you need me to beat someone up?” 

__________ laughs for the first time today, shaking her head. “No, nothing like that.” She sigh. “I’m sorry. It’s really not you. It’s dumb and personal and I don’t want to bug you about it.” 

“You on your period?” 

__________ raises an eyebrow. “Wow, that’s your go-to? Girl’s upset, she must be on her time of the month.” 

“No I wasn’t--I was just asking! I’ve had girlfriends before y’know. I do understand how your bodies work.” 

“Well, that’s a relief to know. I don’t know what I’d do without a man’s input on my hormones.” 

Gladio rolls his eyes. “Okay, no period.” 

“No, it was two weeks ago, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah—you made me get you ice cream at like eleven at night. I almost got busted for curfew,” Gladio recalls. 

“Sorry,” _________ says, genuinely. “But it really did help, so thanks.” 

Gladio grins. “Hey, anything for my buddy.” He pauses. “So. What’s up your ass?” 

___________ sighs again and shakes her head. “It’s just...tomorrow,” she waves flippantly. 

Gladio raises an eyebrow. “Tomorrow’s Saturday...our D and D game? You not feeling up to smashing fire elementals as Keth the half-orc barbarian?” 

“No it’s not that, I do wanna go and play. But um. It’s...it’s Valentine’s Day.” 

Gladio clicks his tongue. “Ah. Old heartbreak got you down?” 

___________ looks at Gladio with a curious expression. “Gladio, I’ve never dated anyone.” 

Time stops, and Gladio blinks. 

“What,” he says. 

“I mean, c’mon bro. Who looks at _this_ \--” she gestures to herself “--and says, ‘hell yeah, I wanna date that so hard’? Pft. As if.” She shrugs. “It’s just rough seeing all this sappy shit, y’know, and feeling lonely.” 

Gladio’s tongue feels heavy in his dry mouth. He scrambles to take several sips of tea as __________ nibbles more on her now-cold sandwich. 

“So you’re just in a funk because of Valentine’s Day,” Gladio repeats. 

“Yeah.” She gazes at him with sad eyes. “Sorry I’ve been a bitch this week—especially today. I just have to get through tomorrow and I’ll be fine. Our game will be the perfect distraction. I wish it was earlier in the day, though.” 

Gladio clears his throat. “Well, I mean—I'm single this year for the first time since I was like, fourteen. You and I could go do something cool before the game at seven? As a distraction. Arcade downtown? Movie? I’ll even buy you those buffalo wings you love so much at the theater.” 

___________ giggles. “Damn, it’s nice having a rich bff.” 

Gladio snorts. “Where’s your usual talk of ‘not wanting to take advantage of my last name,’ or whatever it is I have to reassure you about every month.” 

___________’s eyes go wide. “I mean, you don’t have to. I can buy the wings myself if they’re really that expensive for you. Or I mean, I don’t _have_ to have them. They’re just good...” 

“Sweetheart,” Gladio laughs. “I’m _kidding_. I’ll buy you as many movie theater wings as you want. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t offer, trust me.” 

__________ nods. “Okay.” She pauses, thinking. “I mean...I was gonna get a head start on the annotated bibliography we have to do for Intro to PolySci. Maybe we could do a movie on Sunday?” 

Gladio nods, already formulating a plan. “So you just wanna hang around campus tomorrow until the game, then?” 

__________ shrugs. “I mean, I was kind of wanting to, yeah.” She cocks an eyebrow. “I mean, _you_ can do whatever you want, though, if you have plans with um. With anyone.” 

Gladio doesn’t miss the way her voice hitches at the suggestion. “I didn’t make plans. I could start on work too, I guess. Library?” 

__________ shakes her head and tries to hide her smile. “Nah, Libra’s going out with her boyfriend tomorrow so I was just gonna stay in my room.” 

“You wanna be alone?” 

“Oh, no I mean...you can come up and sit with me and work. If you want to.” 

Gladio nods. “Study date, then.” 

___________’s face flushes and she hastily sips her drink. “Study--study date.” 

______ 

___________ wakes up to an empty room and drags herself out of bed, doing some light yoga stretches before hopping into the shower and putting on a wireless sports bra, some sweatpants, and the latest free t-shirt she’d gotten from an on-campus event last week. She pours herself some cereal and pops a K-Cup into her single-serve Keurig (thank the gods for thrift market finds), guzzling a bottle of water as she sits at her tiny desk and boots up her old dinosaur of a laptop that she’s had for almost five years. She frowns as it takes seemingly forever to update and power on—her scholarship pays for tuition, books, and living expenses—but not much else. Her mom’s salary from the factory barely pays the bills as it is—there's no way she could ask for a new thousand-plus dollar computer. 

Longing about new technology eventually fades into the background as she opens a new word document and logs into the school’s academic journal database, searching for articles that support her chosen topic. The assignment is for fifteen annotated bibliographies—___________ clicks through and finds a couple that she thinks fit the bill. The rough draft of eight articles is due in a week, with the final assignment due in two weeks, and it’s one of the biggest projects that she’s had so far—but in order to keep her scholarship, her GPA has to be at least a 3.5 or higher, so she’s not taking any chances on being late or missing assignments. 

An hour goes by, and there’s radio silence from Gladio, even though he’d expressed interest in doing his work in her room. ___________ just sighs to herself and turns her phone over, resisting the urge to check social media, or even emails, knowing that she’s going to be flooded with Valentine’s Day celebrations. 

Two hours later, there’s a knock on her door. She checks her phone, which has long been silent, and sure enough, she’d missed a message from Gladio twenty minutes ago that said he’d be coming up to continue work on the assignment. She tries to quell the butterflies in her stomach as she makes herself slowly rise from her desk and pads toward the door. 

Sure enough, Gladio is standing there, backpack on his shoulders, but his big, strong arms are overflowing with...roses? And a giant stuffed moogle? And candy? And a big red gift bag? 

_________ tilts her head in confusion. “Um...hi?” 

“Hey,” says Gladio, shooting his best friend a wolfish grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” 

“You...all this is for me?” 

“Yeah!” quips Gladio, pushing past her and moving to her bed to dump his presents on her bed. 

__________ closes her door and skeptically follows him. “Uh,” she says. “Gladio, why...?” 

“Because I didn’t want you to feel left out or depressed. So I got you some, uh. Some friendly Valentine stuff.” 

“Friendly...Valentine stuff.” _________ walks over to the bed and picks up the bundle of roses, sniffing them. She looks up at Gladio. Handsome, sweet, smart, charming Gladio—and her heart just breaks even more. She sniffs hard. “You didn’t have to—I mean--” 

Gladio sighs. “Don’t go crying again on me, sweetheart.” 

“I can’t help it,” __________ sobs. “You...you...” 

Gladio wraps her in a warm, tight hug, squeezing her fiercely. “It’s the least I could do for my best friend, yeah?” He releases her and wipes away the tears from under her glasses. 

__________ sets the roses down and lifts the giant moogle plush, squeezing it. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Valentine’s Day can be about friendships too, y’know. It doesn’t _have_ to be romantic stuff.” Gladio nods to the gift bag. “Open.” 

__________ scoots the moogle and giant box of candy to the side. Gladio picks up the roses and puts them on top of the shelf above her desk, grinning in anticipation. 

“This better not be expensive,” _________ mumbles. 

“No promises,” says Gladio. 

“Stop.” ___________ pauses on taking out the pink tissue paper from the bag. “Gladio. What did you do?” 

“Nothing,” Gladio replies with a smirk, folding his arms. 

“I’m not opening this.” 

“Does my friendship mean nothing to you?” 

“Of course it means something, I just...you keep giving me shit I can’t ever pay back! I’m poor! My mom works at a factory. I’m here on a scholarship.” 

Gladio shrugs. “I don’t expect you to pay anything back. It’s a gift. We’re friends.” 

“But--” 

“No buts,” says Gladio with finality. “Open it.” 

_________ sighs and relents, pulling out the rest of the tissue paper until she gets to a sleek white box. “No,” she says, instantly recognizing the logo on the short end of the shrink-wrapped package. “No, Gladio. You take this back. I can’t...I can’t accept this.” She puts her hand over heart, struggling to hold back more tears. “It’s too much—I don’t deserve it, I...” 

“Hey,” says Gladio, kneeling in front of her. “You _do_ deserve it. You _do_.” 

__________ can’t hold back the tears any longer as she pulls the sleek new laptop out of the bag, shaking her head in disbelief. “Why,” is all she manages to say. 

Gladio feels the strange knot in his gut again. “Because...because you’re worth it.” 

_____ 

“Hey, I need to go to the store for some personal stuff. Can you take me?” It’s after class on Wednesday, still early enough in the afternoon to have several hours to kill before the cafeteria switches over to their dinner menu. ___________ is trotting along beside Gladiolus Amicitia, as always—damn his long, thick, powerful legs that just move way too fast for a five-foot-something girl to keep up with. 

“I would, buddy, but I have Citadel training tonight for a few hours,” Gladio sighs as he takes off his ball cap and runs his hands through his rapidly-growing hair. He’d gotten it cut again just after Christmas, but it’s now long enough to run his fingers through on top. He’d kept the sides shaved in his usual style, but... “Hey, random thought. Should I grow my hair out?” 

“Huh?” _________ slows her pace and looks up at him, narrowing her eyes. “Your hair?” 

“Yeah,” says Gladio, continuing to run his hands through his cropped cut. “I dunno, something different, maybe. Oh, what if I kept it shaved underneath and grew it out long on top? In layers?” 

“I swear if you grow mullet, I’m never speaking to you again.” 

“Oh c’mon, I didn’t mean it like—well...” 

“It would be a mullet,” _________ repeats, smirking. But the more she gazes at Gladio’s broad, handsome face and rugged features, the more she thinks, “Well, maybe you could pull it off? I dunno. Grow it out and see. It’s just hair, right?” 

“Yeah,” Gladio agrees. “If I don’t like it, I could shave it off again, no biggie.” 

“Grow it out so I can braid it.” 

Gladio’s eyes go wide and he grins. “Oh word, you’d wanna do that?” 

__________ nods. “I mean, it’s not like I can braid my own hair, it’s too short. I could like, totally weave flowers into it too. You’d look very pretty. I-I mean! Your hair! Would look pretty. Um. With flowers.” _________ blushes slightly and looks away. _Open mouth, insert foot_. 

“Hey,” says Gladio softly. “Don’t be embarrassed. Of course I’ll be your hair model. I have a younger sister, you think I haven’t spent countless hours with pink fingernails and glittery butterfly barrettes in my hair?” He laughs. “I know I’m a meathead jock, but I promise I’m not hostile to flowers in my hair.” 

_________ turns back to look up at her gorgeous friend. “You mean it?” 

“Sure,” says Gladio. “Looks like I’m growing out my hair.” 

“Cool,” is the only response that _________ can come up with while simultaneously dying inside. “Wait--what were we talking about before hair?” 

“You needed groceries,” Gladio answers as he continues to wander along the cobblestone path to their dorm across from the Humanities building where their political science class has just concluded. “But I have to be at the Citadel in less than an hour. But I could come pick you up once I leave?” 

“Or, uh,” __________ says shyly. “I could...could I come with you? I’ve heard so many stories about the Citadel library, and I’d love to see it! I can bring my homework while you do your training. I promise I won’t bother anyone or anything. It’ll be like I’m not even there.” 

Gladio raises an eyebrow. “Hey, I didn’t think of that. Let me call my dad.” 

______ 

__________ bumbles along behind Captain Drautos as he leads her down the long, imposing corridor. The inside of the Citadel—well, the small fraction that she’s getting to see, anyway—is more than anything she’d ever dreamed of. Everywhere she looks is dripping in luxury and wealth, thousands of years of Lucian history and artifacts all in one, concentrated area. And when the Captain of the Kingsglaive pushes open the ten-foot-tall doors to the library, _________ feels the breath leave her lungs. It’s by far the biggest, most ornate, most _beautiful_ library she’s ever seen in her life. She feels like Belle in the Beast’s castle. She shuffles in behind Drautos as he turns and gestures to the vastness beyond them. 

“Anything you need, we have it,” he says with a kind smile that betrays his rough demeanor. “You’re free to join the Citadel’s public wireless network on your computer for whatever you need to do. Just grab a seat and knock yourself out. Any books you take from the shelf, just leave them on the table. One of the custodians will come shelve them later this evening.” 

“Oh, okay. Um. Wow. I’m just...it’s so beautiful in here.” 

Drautos smiles. “First time?” 

__________ nods, gulping. 

“My office is just down the hall. I’ve got some paperwork to do, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me, or one of the glaives patrolling the halls.” 

_________ gives a short bow and murmurs thanks. The captain returns the gesture and slides back out into the corridor, closing the door and leaving _________ alone in paradise. 

_______ 

Another Saturday night rolls around, and miraculously, Gladio has somehow convinced his shy, geeky friend into coming to one of the frat parties after their Dungeons and Dragons game. It had ended a bit later than usual, 11:45—so by the time the duo shows up to the Sigma Chi Nu house, it’s midnight on the dot, but the party is just getting started. Gladio is greeted at the door by several of the guys on the intramural football team he’d played with last semester, as well as a couple of girls who move in the same social (read: noble) circles as he does. Gladio introduces __________ and everyone, for the moment, is inebriated enough to be overly-friendly and cordial. Gladio moves through the crowded frat house with ease, schmoozing naturally, shaking hands and bumping fists and patting backs. _________ trails close behind him, awkwardly shaking hands with everyone Gladio introduces her too. Music is thumping from the speakers, echoing the nervous bump of __________’s heart. She holds on fiercely to Gladio’s big, warm hand as he pulls her through the crowd of her fellow IU students, the smell of alcohol, cheap cologne, cigarettes, and another odor that _________ doesn’t quite recognize (but that she kind of suspects to be pot) hanging heavy in the air. 

They reach the crowded kitchen after what feels like an eternity of wading through what seems to be half of the whole student body packed tightly into the house. Everywhere she and Gladio look, there are couples in various stages of intercourse, and ___________ can only suspect what’s going on upstairs behind closed bedroom and bathroom doors. Gladio leads her to a cooler and kicks the lid open with his big, booted foot. He grabs a cold, perspiring beer from the mountain of ice and hinges the cap on the kitchen counter, chipping the cheap laminate wood and popping the cap with a hiss. 

_________ just stands there as Gladio chugs it down to half-empty in seconds, smacking his full, pink lips in the aftermath. 

“Damn, just what I needed,” he says, honey-amber eyes shining in the dingy light of the old overhead fixture. “I’m still trying to shake off the adrenaline of our game. Thought ol’ Seraphina Tealeaf was gonna be a martyr for the goddess,” he chuckles deeply. 

“Dude, that mind flayer was no joke. I think James went a little too rough on us. We’re level four.” 

“I mean, he’s a very thorough DM, I just think he doesn’t like me very much.” 

__________ shrugs. “His loss, then.” 

“Mmmmmm,’ says Gladio, nodding and tipping back more of the beer. “I know those types. They say they’re ‘nice guys,’ and they lament not having girlfriends or whatever, but as soon as they get confirmation from a lady friend that she’s _not_ gonna fuck them, they turn hostile and really degrading.” He shrugs. “Went to high school with a lot of them. And yeah, I tried to be friendly, y’know, I’m a big guy, and girls like me—well, boys like me too, I can’t lie—so I was never beating them up or teasing them or shoving them in lockers just for wearing a comic book t-shirt, y’know, but they still thought I was just some shallow chad, taking all the girls away from them.” 

__________ just stares as Gladio finishes his beer and tosses it in the nearby garbage can with a loud _clink_ against the other glass inside, and kicks open the ice chest to grab another one. He pops the bottle cap open on the counter like he did before and takes a hearty swig of the second round. “You think that _they_ think you’re a...a chad?” 

“All they see is tall guy, muscles, girls dripping off him like jewelry,” Gladio shrugs. “No matter how nice I am to those sorts of guys, I’m always fuckin’ competition. And they’re too entrenched in the victim mentality to let me genuinely talk to them and help them to understand how to really get a girlfriend, y’know. To tell them that women _don’t_ like to be objectified. And that women are not machines you put kindness coins into until sex falls out.” 

“Damn, what factory did they make you in?” _________ marvels, reaching up to pat Gladio on the shoulder. “Are you always like this while drinking? Going on hardcore feminist rants?” 

Gladio laughs, shaking his head. He’s starting to feel the familiar buzz of the alcohol, and the longer he gazes at his friend, the warmer he feels. “Nah,” he says. “I’ve just...learned a lot, y’know? Like when I started here, I just thought that this--” he gestures to the raucous party around them-- “was gonna be my primary objective. Hookups, that sort of thing. I was kind of a serial dater in high school, unfortunately. I thought it was some sort of status symbol, that it made me more manly.” He shakes his head. “But then I got here, and I’ve been single ever since, and...” He smiles, feeling that familiar warmth blossoming deep in his chest. “And then I met you. And now we’re best friends, and I’m finding out that college is so much more than parties and casual hookups.” 

__________ returns Gladio’s broad smile, despite her heart shattering into a thousand pieces. “So you mean the rumors are wrong?” 

Gladio raises an eyebrow. “Uh oh. What have you heard?” He kicks back more of his second beer. 

“Well, Libra said that you, um. That your body count was in the double digits.” 

“Pfffft,” Gladio scoffs. “Four, I swear. Anything higher than that is just hearsay.” 

“Damn, I’m so happy I’m not friends with an airhead chad,” _________ teases. 

“Ha!” laughs Gladio, putting one long, beefy arm around his short friend. “Something tells me an airhead chad would get on your nerves pretty fast, huh?” 

“I wouldn’t even give them the time of day.” 

Gladio looks down at her and gives her his best smolder. “Lucky for me, then.” 

As fate would have it, Libra and several more of her friends show up to the party around one am, and Libra pulls __________ aside, away from Gladio, who manages to whisper to her that they’re not going to be staying too much longer. The next hour is filled with general gossip that _________ doesn’t really understand, nor is privy to, being a commoner and all and not connected to any established noble families in Insomnia (with the exception of the Amicitias)--but she’s not minding spending time with her roommate, who keeps drunkenly nudging her in the ribs every time Gladiolus is mentioned. To fit in, __________ is holding a red solo cup full of plain iced tea. It’s not that she’s opposed to drinking, but this is not her ideal environment to start a new vice. 

__________ checks her watch and sees that it’s nearing 2:30 am, and she yawns. She and Gladio are scheduled for some gym time before breakfast tomorrow, and she wants to get at least _some_ sleep before she works herself up to a sweat on the treadmill. “Hey guys, uh,” she says, trying to into the conversation amid the giggles and blaring house music. “I’m pretty beat, I’m gonna go find Gladio and head out. Um. It was nice talking with you.” She looks at Libra, who’s just got a shit-eating grin plastered on her pretty face. “Will you be in tonight, Libra?” 

Her roommate nods slowly. “I’ll be up sometime, girl.” She waves. “Don’t wait up for me. You gonna go find Gladio and make out with him?” She giggles. 

__________ sighs and shakes her head, standing. “We’re not like that, I’ve told you, dummy,” she laughs awkwardly. 

“Holy shit,” says another girl. “Are you serious? I see you two on campus all. The. Time. Cafeteria, library, coffee shop, gym...you’re not dating?” 

_________ feels her cheeks heat up and she repeats herself. “Just friends,” she says. 

“Damn, I don’t know if I could be just friends with that hunk of man,” says a third girl. “I’d climb that like a tree so fast! You’re wild,” she laughs. 

_________ shrugs. “He doesn’t like me like that anyway, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t,” she lies. “Anyway. See you around. Nice talking to you.” 

“Bye girly,” says Libra. Once her roommate is out of earshot, she leans in close to her friends. “Don’t listen to her. Gladio is _totally_ in love with her, she just doesn’t know it yet! Have I told you what happened at our last fire drill...?” 

“Gladio!” __________ shouts, moving through the crowd of students. She pokes her head in the kitchen—she doesn’t see him, but her cup is empty, so she tosses it in the garbage can. Turning, she bumps chest-first into Sol, Gladio’s roommate. 

“Hey little lady!” he slurs, patting her on the head. “Where’s your other half?” 

____________ frowns. “I don’t know, that’s the problem. Have you seen him?” 

Sol’s bright eyes shine down at her as he answers. “I think I saw him go upstairs with a girl, if you know what I mean,” he says as he waggles his eyebrows. 

“Ugh, spare me.” __________ turns away and pushes her way to the living room and climbs the stairs, scanning the house for her best friend. 

Gladio’s seated on a bed in one of the small guest rooms of the frat house with a woman in his lap. He’s tipsy, not fully drunk—but he’s got enough beer and jello shots in him to make his inhibitions lax. He only casually knows this girl from the gym—she's in his yoga class, maybe, he thinks—but damn, she’s pretty enough, and her incessant flirting had finally worn him down. His large hands settle on her narrow hips, slender legs on either side of his legs, grinding down on his very obvious erection. Damn, he’d forgotten how good kissing was, the push and pull of another’s hot, wet mouth against his own. She’s giving off cute moans, small slender hands on either side of Gladio’s thick neck, fingering his necklace as she moves against him. Gladio’s hot under the collar, turned on and on a hair trigger after such a long dry spell of being single. He hears a distant voice in the hallway and cracks open one eye, leaning and peering out through the doorway. 

His new friend adjusts with him, moving down to kiss along his neck, moving her hands to squeeze his solid biceps. Gladio hums in appreciation as he stares out into the hallway, ready to tell whomever is approaching that sorry, this room is taken—when suddenly, his heart drops to his stomach and the color drains from his face. He feels the throb of his cock in his jeans still, even though the girl—Mandy?--steps up her grinding. 

__________ passes a stumbling girl in a party dress and high heels who answers her questions, and she grins and motions toward the open door at the end of the hall. __________ thanks the girl and tells her to be careful going down the stairs as she continues down the hall. Sure enough, as she approaches the dimly-lit spartan bedroom, she locks eyes with Gladio, who looks like a chocobo in headlights as he holds a girl who’s about half her size on his lap. She freezes, fixated on the way her best friend is holding her just above the prominent bulge between his legs. 

“I, uh—I'm just gonna go,” she says, standing a few feet from the open door, lip quivering with oncoming tears. “See you, Gladio.” 

__________ turns, ignoring Gladio’s sudden protests, and bolts down the stairs and out into the cool March night. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't get my feet up off the edge  
> I kinda like the little rush you get  
> When you're standing close to death"
> 
> "After Midnight" Blink-182

Gladio curses and dumps the girl on top of him to the side, grabbing his hoodie that he’d thrown on the floor. 

“Wait, Gladiolus—” She sits up, tucking her hair behind her ear, pouting. “Where are you going? It was just getting good...” 

“I’m sorry,” says Gladio, putting on his outerwear. “I thought I could, but...I can’t. I’m sorry.” He sighs. One look at _________’s forlorn face had killed his mood instantly. He pats his pants, making sure he still has his wallet and keys, and rushes out of the bedroom, bounding down the stairs two at a time until he’s out of the frat house and into the street. 

___________ is just crossing the median, headed back towards campus property. She’s moving as fast as her short, chubby legs will carry her, shivering in the biting wind even though she’s in a sweater and jeans. She hears Gladio’s shouts, hears his thudding footsteps, but she keeps going—until he catches her hand and forces her to turn towards him. 

“Hey!” Gladio shouts. “___________, fuck, look at me.” He grabs his best friend by the wrist and forces her to stop moving. 

“No,” she says defiantly, trying to squirm away. “I’m going home.” 

“Not without telling me why you’re upset.” 

__________ shakes her head, sniffing hard, avoiding eye contact. “It’s—it’s not you, it’s me.” 

“Okay, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. Look. I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what’s broken.” 

“You can’t fix this.” 

Gladio huffs, releasing her arm and trusting her not to run away. He looks down at her and frowns. She’s staring at the grass, arms folded over her ample chest, crying. He runs his hands through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Well, I’m gonna try anyway, because that’s what friends do.” 

She pauses and finally looks up at him, nose runny and eyes watery, glasses half-fogged. “I said you can’t, Gladio. Go back to the party. You were obviously having fun.” 

Gladio clicks his tongue. “So that’s it then,” he says. “You’re mad because you saw me with some girl?” 

“Yes—no—I'm not _mad_ at you, you idiot. What business is it of mine where you stick your dick?” 

“You seem to be _making_ it your business.” 

“Because!” she shouts, unfolding her arms and spreading them wide, gesturing to nothing. “You spit all this big talk about being different, about how all those rumors about you were wrong. I just wanted you to...to...” __________ sighs. “Whatever. I didn’t even want to go to that stupid party anyway.” 

“Your roommate showed up, didn’t she? Why didn’t you just stay talking to her?” 

“Because you said we weren’t even gonna be there that long! Now my sweater smells like weed and I practically watched real live porn on the couch and Libra and her girlfriends kept drilling me about—” She cuts off and bites her tongue, looking away again. 

“Drilling you about what,” says Gladio. 

“Nothing,” she says. 

“Spit it out,” Gladio grunts. 

“Kept drilling me about _you_ ,” she shouts, looking up at him. “God, Gladio, don’t you get it? Everyone thinks we’re a. ..a _thing_. And we’re not. And as someone who’s never had a boyfriend, that shit hurts, okay? It’s like, no one thinks I can just be friends with you and it’s fucking frustrating.” 

Gladio blinks. “Again with the relationship stuff?” He huffs, folding his arms. “Look, it’s not _my_ problem you’ve never had a boyfriend, so don’t put that shit on me. Maybe if you weren’t so self-deprecating all the time—” Gladio winces—he regrets the words as soon as he says them. 

_________ stares up at him, face contorted in anger—and the next thing she knows, her palm is colliding with Gladio’s scruffy face. “Fuck you,” she mumbles, turning away. “I can’t do this right now. I’m going to bed.” 

“I deserved that,” sighs Gladio, rubbing his face. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I just don’t get why you’re upset with me.” 

“I’m not upset with _you_ ,” she mutters. “I’m...I’m upset with _myself_. I just feel like...” she feels the floodgates open, and before she or Gladio realize it, they’re embracing, and he’s hugging her as tightly as he can. She sobs into his hoodie, feeling stupid for crying so much but feeling as though she can’t help it. “I just feel unlovable,” she sobs, nuzzling into the soft fabric. She’s overwhelmed with the smell of Gladio’s detergent, his cologne, and underneath it all, the smell of just _him._ It’s almost more than __________ can take, but she holds onto him like a lifeline. 

“It seems like no matter what I do, you’re crying,” Gladio whispers softly into her hair. “I’m sorry.” 

___________ shakes her head. “N-no,” she manages. “I’ve...it’s _me_ , it’s me, Gladio,” she sniffles. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you, that was wrong, I just...” 

“I deserved that,” Gladio says. “Honestly. That was a shitty thing to say, and I didn’t mean it.” He coughs out a laugh, squeezing her. “You have one hell of a hand there. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of your punch.” 

“Thanks,” comes the muffled laughter. A beat, then, “I really am tired.” 

“I’m sorry we didn’t leave when I said we were going to.” 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for getting so mad.” 

“As long as you’re not mad at me,” says Gladio. 

“I’m not,” she whispers. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Okay,” says Gladio, stepping away, thumbing away her tears. “Let’s go get some sleep.” 

_______ 

Gladio hustles into their Tuesday afternoon history class with a minute to spare. He scans the desks for his usual seat, only to find it occupied—by __________. The only other empty seat is in the front row. Gladio shoulders his backpack and approaches his desk, coughing to get __________’s attention away from one of their other classmates. 

She looks up at him sheepishly. “Oh, hey.” 

“Excuse me ma’am, you’re in my seat.” 

“Hm, sucks to be you I guess,” __________ responds, wiggling in the seat, sticking out her tongue. “My seat was taken.” 

“Oh so that gives you a right to take mine?” 

“Manifest destiny,” ____________ responds, pulling out the term that settlers from Niflheim had used when they’d traveled into what is now modern Tenebrae. 

“Nuh-uh. This is a coup d’etat,” Gladio says, laughing. 

“Mr. Amicitia, will you please have a seat so we can start class?” the professor huffs as he clicks the remote to turn on the overhead projector. 

“Please don’t make me sit in the front row,” ____________ begs him quietly. 

“Fine,” says Gladio in mock annoyance, but he smiles and plops down six chairs ahead of her. 

____________ spends most of the lecture analyzing how Gladio’s incredibly soft white t-shirt stretches over his broad shoulders and sculpted back muscles. 

“So I was thinkin’,” Gladio says over dinner. He’s treating them to Kenny Crow’s again; as usual, a large order of bacon fries sits in the middle of the kitschy diner table. Gladio’s eating the Crow breakfast spread—pancakes, sausage, hash browns, toast, grits, bacon, scrambled eggs, with a cup of milk and a cup of orange juice to wash it all down with. 

__________ is keeping it simple with a barbeque bacon hamburger, water, and sweet potato fries. She looks at Gladio as she gobbles down some of the fries in the middle of the table. “Whatcha thinkin’,” responds, mouth full. 

Gladio snorts. “Chew your food.” 

“Sorry.” She swallows. “What’s up?” 

“Spring break,” says Gladio. “Got any plans?” 

“Uh.” _________ thinks. “Spring break is at the end of March, right? Like in three weeks.” 

“Yeah,” Gladio says, smiling. 

“Um, no, I’m not really doing anything. Was just gonna go home I guess.” 

“Well,” says Gladio, heart beat starting to increase. Why is he so nervous about this? “I was wondering, uh. If you’d wanna go camping. Uh. With me.” 

“Cam...camping?” _________ asks in surprise. “Like. In a tent on the ground. Peeing on trees.” 

Gladio laughs. “Okay, hey, don’t launch into all the bad shit about it first.” 

“So you admit there’s bad shit about camping.” ___________ raises an eyebrow. 

“Would you just listen!” Gladio laughs. “Damn.” He puts his hand over his chest to try and quell the jitters. “So, okay, yes, we’d definitely be ‘roughing it,’ but c’mon...out in the wild forests, beyond the Wall, clear stars. The smell of a bonfire. Fresh game to eat. No one around except us. No school drama. No responsibilities.” 

“And bugs, lots and lots of bugs,” ___________ replies, counting on her fingers. “No electricity, potential sunburns, no _bed_ \--” She pauses, looking at Gladio. Despite everything, she’s smiling at him softly. “I’ve...I’ve never been camping. I’ve just seen like. Movies and stuff.” 

Gladio laughs. “Okay, little miss critic, stop talking about my hobbies like that! If I can get clearance from my dad and the Marshal, it’s a plan.” 

“Just me and you?” she asks quietly. “But, are you sure you wouldn’t want to hang out with the prince and—” 

“Hey,” says Gladio. “College is my time to kind of be my own person. So let me do this, all right?” 

____________ nods. “Okay. Camping it is, then. But um. I’ll need to shop for some outdoor gear I guess. I’ll look at the thrift store this weekend.” 

“Oh,” says Gladio. “Why don’t you let me--” 

“ _No,_ ” says with finality. “Thrift shop, Gladio. I’ll be fine. If they’re clothes I’m gonna get dirty, let me shop second hand. I can’t stand you buying me another thing.” 

“I know your size, so no promises I won’t go get something on my own,” Gladio says with a wink. 

“Ugh, you’re incorrigible.” 

“Mmmmm, look at miss big words from literature class.” 

“Shut up.” 

__________ 

“I _cannot_ believe that you’re ‘just’ friends with _the_ Gladiolus Amicitia,” Libra sighs wistfully. 

________ glances up from where she’s doing an online quiz for sociology, squinting at her nosy roommate. It’s a week and a half before spring break, which means midterms are rapidly approaching. She’s exempt from three of them, thank the gods, but she knows that with her scholarship, she can’t slack off. 

“Well we _are_ ,” she says. “Why can’t a girl and a boy just be friends? You have guy friends, don’t you?” 

“Well duh,” says Libra, glancing up from her pop culture magazine. “But come _on_. It’s _Gladio_.” 

“You’re saying that you can’t believe that I don’t have ulterior motives,” _________ laughs. “Libra. Come on. I play Dungeons and Dragons for fun. I was president of my high school’s Anime and Manga Club. I’m a wallflower. I don’t even _drink._ Do you really think someone like me has the balls to flirt and try to get with someone who looks like Gladio?” 

“I’m just saying, as an outside observer,” says Libra, idly licking her perfectly manicured finger and flipping the page, gasping softly as she comes to a spread about her favorite band. “Um, you and Gladio have a crazy amount of chemistry.” 

“I mean, isn’t that good? And like, necessary for a solid friendship?” 

“I mean yeah,” says Libra, lowering her magazine and looking at her soft roommate. “But it’s also a key ingredient in love.” 

“Gladio doesn’t _love_ me,” __________ sighs as she shakes her head, turning back to her quiz and clicking through a few more answers. “We’re friends. We bond over bacon fries, D and D, political science stuff, and action movies. I’m probably just ‘one of the guys,’ or whatever the friend zone is for girls.” 

“You know the friend zone is a made-up concept,” Libra says, shrugging. She pauses, narrowing her eyes. “Wait. If you think you’ve been friend-zoned—” 

“Bro-zoned,” __________ deadpans, clicking _submit_ on the computer screen. 

“Whatever! If you’re thinking like that, then that means that you _do_ like him!” 

__________ freezes, feeling herself blush despite her denial. “I like him as a friend.” 

“You are blushing.” 

“Because you keep bringing up this ridiculous concept! No way someone like Gladio is going to want to date me. Never ever.” 

“Never say never,” says Libra, grinning. “I _knew_ it. I knew you liked him.” 

“I mean, what do you want me to say? That he’s not hot? I mean, I do have four eyes, y’know.” 

Libra giggle-snorts at the glasses joke. “I just think you don’t give yourself enough credit,” she says. “You have a really good personality. You’re very giving and selfless. You’re a hard worker, and sweet, and super smart.” 

__________ shrugs. “Thanks, I guess, I mean...but I’m not nobility. He’s the personal bodyguard of Prince Noctis, right? I’m some broke-ass commoner. My family is from Old Lestallum. Back before everyone moved and they built new Lestallum.” 

“Gladio doesn’t seem like the type to care about where you were born,” says Libra, abandoning her magazine and going to sit on ___________’s bed. “He’s not that shallow, is he?” 

___________ shakes her head, looking up at Libra with misty eyes. “He’s not,” she says quietly. 

“Mmmmm, I didn’t think so,” she says, drawing her knees up to her chest. “So what is it? Just general anxiety about the opposite sex? I can tell you about boys. They’re so easy,” Libra laughs. 

“No, it’s not...it’s not that, I don’t think? Like I’ve gotten better about talking to boys in general. High school was hell for me.” 

“Is it the weight thing?” Libra asks gently. 

__________ nods slowly, putting her computer into rest mode and closing it. “It’s so...it’s just that if I looked like you, I wouldn’t even have this problem.” 

“Skinny girls like me don’t automatically have awesome self-esteem, y’know. And it’s not like we never have health issues ever. I have an autoimmune disorder, for starters.” 

“I’m not saying that—that skinny people never have problems or are unhealthy. But even if you hate yourself personally, society doesn’t. Boys like you, want to date you, want to...to kiss you. It’s like, as soon as you’re over 200 pounds, you stop being a woman to them. Like you don’t even register on the ‘sex’ radar part of their brain.” 

“Girlfriend,” says Libra, laying a thin hand on __________’s knee. “You exist to do more than to be fuckable to men. I say this as someone who attracts the male gaze whether she wants to or not.” 

“It’s so easy for you to say that though,” _________ sighs, looking at the other girl. “I just want a guy to genuinely love me, to think I’m pretty, to think I’m worth it. Just once, I want to know what it’s like.” 

“He’s out there,” says Libra. “I know he is. And hey, you never know. It _could_ be Gladio.” 

“Now you’re talking about miracles,” _________ laughs, shaking her head. She glances at her phone and tries to suppress a smile. 

“Gee, I wonder who you have a message from,” Libra says, smirking. 

__________ glances at her roommate with a sheepish grin, blushing. “Shut up!” 

“Oh. My. Gods.” 

__________ looks up from her King’s Knight battle that she’s in with Gladio. Libra is staring at her phone, eyes wide and red-faced, small pink mouth agape. “What’s wrong?” she asks. 

Libra blinks and slowly turns her head, lowering her phone. “Do you not know about Gladio’s fitness blog on Tumblr?” 

_________ finishes selecting the battle moves that will throw an ultimate charged combo attack at the big boss and sets her game mode to “auto battle” before answering. “Uh. No? I didn’t know he had a fitness blog. And why would I care? I go to the gym with him like three times a week.” 

“Oh, you’re _about to_ care,” Libra says with a devilish wink. “Please come here.” 

__________ sighs and relents, glancing at her phone to see that her party has been victorious. She ends multiplayer mode and goes back to the home screen, tossing her phone on the bed and crossing the room to Libra. 

“Oh...wow.” Well, that’s what _________ says out loud, but in her head, she’s shriveling up into a nose-bleeding ball of lust and blasting off into space. Sure, she’s seen Gladio shirtless, even down to the low-hanging gym shorts that show off the deep v-cut of his hips and lower abdomen. But the pictures on his blog are pure _art,_ with lighting and filters. They aren’t of him in his dorm room—many of them look like they were taken either at the Amicitia family mansion, or in the Citadel itself. There are many that show off what _________ has seen just from last semester’s intramural football practice and sneak peaks at the weight bench in the rec center; but the rest of them might as well be softcore _porn_ —early-morning shots of Gladio in a large bed with white sheets, golden rays of sunlight dancing over his muscular body, with only a blanket settled between his legs and tastefully draped incredibly across his groin; shots of him flexing in a locker room in nothing but a jock strap—including backside angles; short videos of him bench-pressing his heaviest weight to date, 350 pounds; before, during, and after pictures of him crushing a watermelon with his thighs, with the unmistakable face of Prince Noctis laughing in the background; and various poses that might be seen on a Mr. Universe or bodybuilding champion stage, highlighting the curves and the bulk of Gladio’s developing body. 

“Wow. That’s all you can say? _Wow_?” Libra balks, turning to _________. “Girl. You are friends with _this._ _This_ takes you out to dinner and buys you new _laptops._ _This_ is your science lab partner! _This_ carries you up three flights of stairs after a fire drill!”

“You sound exasperated,” _________ murmurs. 

“I can’t believe you haven’t jumped this man’s bones yet. Honestly.” Libra licks her lips. “Because damn, if I wasn’t single...” 

“Gladio’s more than just his body, you know,” __________ scoffs, turning, trying and failing not to remember the shot of Gladio’s groin nestled in designer jockstraps. “He’s incredibly smart and well-read. Bet you didn’t know he liked camping, or that his favorite book is _Pride and Prejudice_. He would’ve been a fitness coach if he wasn’t in service to the crown. He prefers balck socks, and every pair of sneakers that he buys, he immediately unlaces them and re-laces them in a hidden knot technique. He’s actually only slept with four people, and it takes eight beers to get him tipsy.” _________ stops and blinks at her roommate, who, of course, is just sitting there with Eos’ largest shit-eating grin across her face. 

“Oh, you’re in it _bad,_ ” says Libra, going back to her phone and continuing to scroll. “If he’s got nudes on here, I am going to scream.” 

“I don’t wanna know,” ________ says, waving her hand and shuffling back under her covers. “Have fun objectifying my best friend. I’m going to bed.” 

“He wouldn’t have put this out here if he didn’t want people to _look_ , dummy,” Libra laughs. 

“Whatever.” 

Two hours later, when _________ hears the tell-tale signs of Libra in dreamland, she pulls out her phone and types in the name of Gladio’s blog and shamelessly gets herself off to the nearly-nude photos. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, she _does_ have it bad for Gladiolus Amicitia. But his friendship is too precious to soil, so __________ resolves to suffer in silence. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did I get this straight?  
> Do you want me here
> 
> "Up All Night" Blink-182

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> camping trip over spring break, part one  
> ____  
> Y'all, the last four days have been so crazy, personally. Thanks for your patience. Hoping to churn out another chapter soon-ish.

“I forgot how big the sky seems out here.” ____________ is holding the tent pegs as Gladio hammers them into the notched, rocky ground of the haven. Even growing up outside of Insomnia, she had always seen the strange, glowing monoliths in the distance, but her family never could—or would—answer her questions about them. Gladio had chuckled when he’d pulled his truck off the main highway and engaged the four-wheel drive, barreling over rocks and tumbleweeds towards the magical outcropping. 

“They’re protection from daemons,” he’d said. “They’re powered by the Oracle’s magic.” 

If the explanation had been that simple, __________ didn’t know why her mom never told her about them—but she supposes that it’s neither here nor there, now, over a decade later. 

Once the tent is set up—a big yellow four-person sleeper that looks incredibly well-used—Gladio digs his flint and steel from his cargo pants pocket and gets to work, building a balanced fire with the large branches he’d found earlier, stuffed underneath with leaves and lint from a plastic baggie he’d brought along. 

___________ sets up the camping table and the single-burner camping stove, setting out tools, oil, spices, and some cast-iron cookware for dinner. She’s never been one for the rugged outdoors, but she’s willing to follow Gladio in whatever he wants to do. This time away from school and the hustle and bustle of city life is exactly what she’d needed. Besides, she’s thinks that she looks the part, anyway, in her red plaid shirt, hiking boots, and black cargo pants. A bandana in her hair keeps the short, wavy locks away from her face. Gladio’s in head-to-toe Patagonia, and most of his camping supplies are emblazoned with the Coleman logo. 

“Are you like, a paid Coleman sponsor?” __________ giggles as she settles into a camping chair, watching Gladio work on the fire. 

Gladio laughs, shaking his head. His hair is starting to get into that awkward growing-out phase; he’s keeping the sides buzzed, and the top layers are slicked back, with a little curled ponytail at the nape of his neck. The tie keeping his hair together is pink and sparkly—no doubt snuck from his little sister’s room. It’s so endearing and cute, ________ thinks that she might combust. 

“Nah,” Gladio answers, cutting through her internal monologuing. “They just have really good gear that lasts.” For a moment, Gladio allows himself to drag his eyes up and down the length of her short, chubby form nestled into the olive-green chair. She looks at ease for the first time in weeks. He watches as her eyes flick from him up to the sky. She’d mentioned how _big_ it was—and truly, he misses it every single day. Where the horizon seems to stretch on endlessly, like there’s no end to the world. The southern coast of Cavaugh is only twenty minutes away, and the salty wind blows up even to the rocky, magical haven that’s nestled in the woods, two miles from the highway, only an hour from Insomnia—but it feels like they’re the only humans left on Eos. 

And Gladio has a sudden thought that physically jolts him—it's so scary that he pushes it deep down into the depths of his psyche from whence it came. 

_She could be the only other person left in the world, and I would survive._

Gladio wonders if he’s losing his actual marbles. He packs the rest of the branches underneath the triangle structure, strikes the flint, and lights the campfire. He rises, putting his tools back into his pocket and dusting his hands, putting them on his hips as he surveys his work—their work. The tent is up, sleeping bags and duffle bags tucked safely inside. Camping table and cooking equipment out and ready, ice chest full of reusable water bottles, beer, and dry ice to keep whatever Gladio kills fresh and cold, flickering fire and two camping chairs right next to each other. 

“Wanna go for a walk?” Gladio holds out his hand, and in a flash of sparkly blue, a small crossbow and quiver of arrows drops into his right hand. 

__________ just stares up at him in awe. “I swear I’m never gonna get used to that.” 

Gladio laughs and shoulders the quiver, bending his arm and resting the crossbow on one shoulder as he holds out his other hand. “You will, in time. I can show you my sword later if you want.” 

__________ tries not to blush and blurt out that Gladio’s steel weapon isn’t the only sword she’s interested in seeing. She takes his hand and allows herself to be hauled up and out of the camping chair, away from the haven and into the forest to hunt. 

The night is clear, with all the stars and even the outline of the galaxy in view. Gladio had killed three large rabbits with his bow, and after skinning them, ___________ had sauteed the meat along with the small collection of dried herbs from Gladio’s gear, and wild onions that she’d picked on their way back to the haven. With full bellies and a roaring fire that Gladio had stoked again once night had fallen, the two friends are nestled snug in their camping chairs. 

Gladio tips back a beer as he gazes at the fire, peeking at __________ from his peripheral vision. She’s under one of his thick Sherpa blankets, head lolled to the side, breathing deep and even. 

“Want a beer?” Gladio tries. “No pressure, though. Just thought maybe, with just me, out here...you might wanna try it.” 

There’s a long pause, and then, “Well, all right.” 

Gladio grins and rises, grabbing a can from the ice chest and handing it to her. He even pops the tab. She takes it, short fingers brushing his and half-closing around them as he releases the can to her grip. 

She sniffs the top, then makes a face. “It smells...like yeast.” 

Gladio snorts. “Good detection, Sherlock. That’s what beer is made from.” 

“Hm.” _________ tentatively puts the can to her lips and drinks, swallowing a couple of gulps. 

Gladio laughs at the twitches and animated expressions that crawl from her chubby cheeks to her eyes and back. “Oh c’mon, it’s not that bad.” 

“No, it’s not that it’s bad, it’s just...different?” She swallows again in rapid succession. “There’s like...a hint of vanilla in this?” 

“Yeah, it’s my favorite,” says Gladio as he finishes and places the empty can in the chair’s cupholder. “The aftertaste is really smooth.” 

“I have no idea what that means,” ________ laughs as she takes a few more sips, starting to feel warm and fuzzy. But it’s okay, right? She’s safe, here with Gladio. And even out in the woods, with no electricity and no running water, there’s nowhere she’d rather be. 

By the end of her second beer, __________ is definitely feeling a little more lucid than usual. The fire seems bigger and brighter and hotter, and her warm, thick clothes seem almost stifling, even in the crisp early-spring night air. She’s draped the blanket over the back of the camping chair, making it padded so she can comfortably rest her head back and look at the stars. 

“How ya feelin’?” Gladio asks. He reaches over and puts his hand on her arm. 

__________ feels a rush of blood to her head and she closes her eyes. Time seems slowed down, even though she’s tracked the movement of the stars from when they first appeared in the sky. She’s definitely feeling woozy— _Of course I would be a lightweight_ , she thinks, hoping that Gladio doesn’t tease her too much for being tipsy after two beers. To be fair, this is her first experience drinking. Maybe the tolerance comes with time. 

“Fine,” she says, but it comes out muffled. 

She hears Gladio laugh—it feels distant, even though he’s right there. Touching her. She opens her eyes and lays her head to the side. To her surprise, he’s already looking at her. 

“Don’t tease me,” she mumbles. “First time. ‘S’good though. Vanilla beer.” 

“You’ll get used to it,” says Gladio. “But I think it’s time for some water now. I’ll grab a canteen.” 

“Nooooooo,” she tries to protest, but Gladio just chuckles again and pats her arm, getting up to dig in the ice chest. 

When __________ wakes, her internal clock is telling her that it’s the ass-crack of dawn. She feels warm, even though Gladio’s padding and camping blankets still do little to dull the rocky haven ground. She has a feeling that she’ll have to ramp up yoga classes back at the university to work out the kinks in her back—but she slept hard and well, probably thanks to the alcohol in her virgin system. She feels solid presence behind her, and an arm thrown over her middle—Gladio, breathing deeply, just on this side of snoring, nestled in his own sleeping bag. They had started the night with about two feet of space in between them, but _________ somehow knew that she’d end up instinctively snuggling close to Gladio. He’s like a damn heater—like Jacob from _Twilight_. 

_Really,_ she curses at herself, rolling her eyes. _Now you’re comparing_ _Gladio_ _to a wolf shapeshifter?_ Gladio _could_ be a wolf, though, easy—he's already outdoorsy and has the shredded musculature. ___________ chances a quiet, sneaky turn to look over her shoulder. 

Gods, _of course_. As if the Astrals weren’t already torturing her enough—here's Gladiolus Amicitia, sleeping bag unzipped, thermal shirt and pants balled up at his feet, asleep in nothing except tight black boxer shorts. Just _great_. __________ sighs deeply and turns back over, dozing off again to dreams of Gladio’s solid thighs laid bare before her. 

Thankfully, __________ wakes up a couple of hours later, and she’s alone. She fumbles for her glasses and rubs her forehead, yawning. She smells another campfire and some sort of food, so she stands on bent, shaky legs, and ducks into the morning. 

“There’s the sleeping princess,” says Gladio, laughing. He's got an oven mitt on, squatting next to the fire, hovering over the cast-iron skillet. 

“I’ll have you know that I woke up earlier, I just went back to sleep.” 

“Uh huh,” Gladio teases. 

__________ steps closer, peering over his shoulder. “Eggs?” 

“Yep! Found an empty nest and swiped a few.” 

“That poor momma bird.” 

Gladio shrugs. “Circle of life, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” __________ takes a seat in her camping chair and watches as Gladio sprinkles some of the herbs into the pan, using a small metal spatula to fold it over into an omelet. He takes the pan from the fire and cuts the egg in half, scooping each half onto a plate on the ground by the fire. He sets the pan down and grabs both plates, rising to hand it to her. 

“It ain’t much, but it’s protein,” Gladio shrugs. 

“Hey, no, this is great.” 

Gladio smiles and grabs two forks from the camping table and the two friends dig into breakfast, washing it down with water from their canteens. 

__________ washes the cooled dishes with bottled water and some biodegradable soap, spreading them out on a rag on the table to dry. She turns to Gladio—now that it’s warmed up a little, he’s in his same pants from yesterday, and a black tank top with the royal Crownsguard logo. She gets lost in admiring his shoulders and biceps when suddenly, he turns, honey eyes bright and wide. 

“Hey,” he says, grinning. “Do you wanna pack up and head to the beach? It’s only twenty minutes from here!” 

“Isn’t that where everyone else is right now?” ___________ frowns. Part of the appeal of a camping trip with Gladio was the privacy—she doesn’t wanna be on _Lucis Gone Wild_ down at the Quay. 

“Nah, they’re all at Gladin, which is the complete opposite way. Besides, a huge chunk of rich kids go to Altissia for the holidays anyway.” Gladio shrugs. “This is right at the tip of the Lucinia Sound. Dad has a little cabin out that way. There’s no running water, but there _are_ lights.” 

___________ hums, tapping her chin. “I dunno, this really isn’t so bad. Besides, I didn’t bring a bathing suit.” 

Gladio smirks. “Who says you need a bathing suit at the beach?” 

“Nah-ah. Nope. I am _not_ going skinny dipping with you.” 

Gladio laughs. “There’s a pretty big outpost at the halfway mark between here and the camp. I’m sure the supply shop will have something you can wear.” 

__________ folds her arms. “Doubtful. I’m not exactly sample size.” 

Gladio shrugs. “If you change your mind, let me know.” He thinks for a minute, then, “Well, ready to take a bath?” 

“Ugh, yes, I thought you’d never ask. I feel sticky and gross.” 

Gladio grins. “C’mon. I know a secret hot spring that’s a short hike from here.” 

“Uh oh. Your version of short and my version of short are two different things.” 

“Hey, if you get tired, I’ll just carry you.” 

___________ holds on to the mossy rock and carefully climbs into the bubbling hot water, groaning softly as the steam settles on her skin. She finds a worn, smooth rock underwater and sits, making sure to stay covered to her shoulders. Looking across the natural bath to Gladio, who’s got his eyes closed and has his arms spread wide along the sides of the hot spring, __________ licks her lips and ogles for just a minute longer before she clears her throat and says, “Okay, I’m in.” 

Gladio cracks an eye and smirks. “Why are you all the way over there?” 

“Uh,” she says. “We’re naked?” 

He shrugs. “So what? You think I don’t know what a girl looks like?” 

Goddammit, being Gladio’s friend is one of the hardest things that _________ thinks she’s ever done in her life. “Not a girl like me,” she answers. “Besides, it’s--we’re just friends, right? That wouldn’t be awkward for you?” 

Gladio tilts his head. He hadn’t considered the awkwardness factor. “Uh, no, not really.” 

__________ laughs and shakes her head. “You’re such a libertine.” 

Gladio lifts an eyebrow. “That a bad thing?” 

“Not really. Sorry. I’m just...” 

“It’s that sheltered upbringing, huh,” Gladio teases. “Well fine. You can stay over there if you want.” 

What __________ can’t say is that she actually wants to climb into his lap and have him take her right here and now. She bites her tongue and sighs. “Oh, did you bring the soap? And the shampoo bar?” 

“Well duh,” says Gladio, turning around and digging in his pile of clean clothes. He digs out the soap, shampoo bar, and a natural sponge, sliding along the side of the hot spring to hold it out to his friend. He tries not to look at her exposed neck and shoulders, her ample cleavage bobbing just under the surface, her smooth skin that’s glistening with steam and sweat. 

She shyly avoids his gaze as she takes the items from him and lathers up her hair and a rag to drag over her body, handing them back when she’s done. She can’t quite place the soft look on Gladio’s face, but it’s too much to hope for affection, isn’t it? Not for her. Never for someone like her. 

______ 

“All right, fuck it. Let’s go to the beach.” 

It’s afternoon on the second day at the haven, and Gladio has just skillfully hunted a young garula, much to the amazement of his best friend. ___________ has never witnessed a battle up close—and certainly not one of the Crownsguard, of the prince’s own royal shield. Gladio swings the giant broadsword over his head and cuts down the beast like it’s nothing, sending the garula’s friends into a frenzied stampede the opposite way, out of danger. Gladio sends his sword back into the Armiger and summons two much smaller daggers, slicing the garula open and gutting it like a skilled butcher. _________ runs over to the fresh kill—damn, these things are so _big_ up close—and presents the open ice chest to Gladio so that he can place the hearty, tender cuts of still-hot raw meat inside. 

Gladio wipes his blood-stained hands on his black jeans and turns, looking over his shoulder at his best friend. “Really?” he says. 

“Yeah,” she replies, shivering as she flicks her gaze from the bloody garula carcass to the ice chest. “Take me to the coast.” 

Gladio’s flushed face splits into a beautiful grin. “You got it, baby.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day three of spring break, beach camp at the Lucinia Sound

“Welcome to Diver Dave’s Bait & Beach!” 

Gladio and ___________ let the old wooden door bang shut behind them as they enter the sprawling shop. It’s part grocery store, part bait & tackle, part cheap beach gifts (those aren’t _real_ shark tooth necklaces, are they?), and _all_ cheesy. Gladio waves in greeting and pats his friend on the shoulder. 

“I’m gonna stock up on sunscreen and camping supplies,” he says, pointing to the back left of the store. “Looks like clothes and bathing suits are over there. See if you find anything.” 

___________ groans at the prospect of a _bathing suit_ but nods in acquiescence, not really having a choice. She passes rows of cheaply-made trinkets and funky airbrushed shirts that say _Lucinia Coast has the_ _most!,_ making her way to the racks of bathing suits. It takes several minutes of digging, and since asking Dave where the fat girl bathing suits are is something she’d rather not do, __________ lifts and lifts hangers and suits until she finds a small rack with some plus size suits. They’re mostly black, but there are a couple with pink floral patterns as if to say, _Well_ _you fat ladies can’t be too colorful, now can you? Don’t stick out, don’t stick out, don’t stick out_. _________ finds her size in one of the brighter suits, a halter-top tankini with a pink high-waisted bottom and tropical pink flowers all over the top. And miracle of miracles, the top even has _underwire_ in the cups instead of a cheaply-made padded bra with inserts that aren’t even attached. _________ smiles to herself, thinking that maybe this won’t be so bad after all—and it’ll be the first new bathing suit that she’s had in four years—but her dreams are crushed when she chances a look at the price tag. 

“Oh, hell no! What the fuck! This is highway robbery. No stinkin’ way.” She sighs and puts the suit back, moving to the plain black one-pieces to see if those are any cheaper. 

Gladio wanders over, arms full of beach towels, sunscreen, what looks like an actual Speedo (dear gods just kill me now, __________ thinks), some proteins bars and Gatorade, various small camping tools, and a new fishing pole and some lures. “Didja find anything?” 

__________ frowns. “Gladio, these are too expensive. The cheapest one here is like 200 gil. Absolutely out of the question. I don’t have that kind of money.” 

Gladio lifts an eyebrow. “Who said you were paying for it?” 

“No. Nope. I won’t let you.” 

“If you won’t let me buy you a bathing suit, we’re going home.” 

___________ pouts. “But I don’t wanna go home.” 

Gladio smirks wolfishly. “Okay then. Pick out a damn suit.” He turns, headed for the cash register, but stops at the shelves of funky shirts that are _2 for 25 Gil_ , and somehow manages to hold all of his own purchases while shuffling through the sizes and picking out, presumably, one shirt for each of them. 

__________ sighs after her too-thoughtful best friend and tries not to watch his ass as he walks away. She grabs the bathing suit, and turns to the wall of hanging beach towels and picks out one that’s extra long, and meets Gladio at the register. 

The water is warm and salty, and the beach itself is pretty deserted. There are a few scattered families under umbrellas, but __________ can tell that the tip of the Lucinia Sound is mostly for retired beachcombers or rich families who crave a quieter experience than the one at Galdin Quay. The Amicitia camp is small but cozy—and of course, of course, because the Astrals have decided to torture one _________ __________ explicitly, of course there’s only one bed. The other mattress is an old pull-out couch, and it honestly doesn’t look _that_ comfortable. Oh well. It’s not like sleeping in the same bed is any different than sleeping side by side in sleeping bags in a tent, right? 

And Gladio had been right about the lack of running water inside of the tiny two-room house itself—but there are intermittent showers and public bathrooms along the boardwalk that runs between the rows of sea-blue camps and the sandy banks of the upper beach. And there are still plenty of jugs of water in Gladio’s truck to cook and brush their teeth with. After unloading their supplies and putting the garula meat inside of the fridge for later, the two friends decide to head out to the open water. 

__________ shuffles into her bathing suit, miraculously not hating it as much as she thought it would, and makes her way into the kitchen. She pours a bottle of water into the coffee maker and turns it on, finding a few old mugs in the cabinet above. 

Gladio comes out of the bedroom sometime later, carrying both of their towels. 

_________’s eyes snap up from where she’s carefully pouring hot coffee into the stained white mug and Gladio is, of course, looking every bit the casual male swimsuit model that he is. Chiseled lines, stacked muscle, and tanned skin as far as the eye can see—dark happy trail that starts at his belly button and leads all the way down beneath the indecent dark blue swatch of spandex that somehow passes as a bathing suit. And _what_ a bathing suit. Gladio fills it out all in the right ways and _________ isn’t sure that she’s going to be able to do this. Why can’t he wear swim trunks, for crying out loud? 

“Careful--!” Gladio cries out just as __________’s mug overflows with hot, liquid caffeine. 

“Shit!” _________ jumps back from the hot cascade of coffee that’s overflowing the mug and sets it and the coffee pot on the counter, feeling her face flush in embarrassment. _Damn him_. 

“Hey, hey, you okay?” Gladio throws his beach towel onto the kitchen table and is in her space in an instant, grabbing the roll of paper towels and kneeling to wipe up the coffee. 

“I’m--I’m fine, it didn’t get me.” 

“You should pay better attention.” 

“You startled me, is all!” __________ says in a huff, looking away from the demigod on the floor in front of her. 

Gladio laughs and looks up at his chubby friend who’s wrapped in tight pink flowery nylon and spandex. He tries not to look at her bare legs, her chunky thighs pocked with cellulite, her cute fat knees, the soft hairs that run from her ankle to the crease of her thighs. Her eyes are turned away to the coffee pot on the counter, arms folded, face red. 

“Hey,” Gladio tries again, gently. “It’s okay! I’m not mad. In fact, you can hand me a mug. I was thinking of coffee too, actually.” 

“Do you really have to...y’know what, nevermind.” 

“What?” Gladio questions as he rises, throwing the sopping wet paper towels into the garbage can. 

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Um. Coffee, right.” She turns, grabbing a kitchen towel and wiping the sides of her mug. 

Gladio gazes at her back. “I like the swimsuit.” 

“Huh?” she turns, eyes wide, steaming coffee cup slightly trembling. 

Gladio clears his throat. “I said, I like the bathing suit. It flatters you.” 

__________ blushes slightly and smiles. “You think so? I never really...it’s so _pink_. Everything else I’ve ever had has been black. And uh...” She gestures to her chest. “They’re not all exactly friendly in the chest department.” 

Gladio chuckles and nods, reaching up to grab a coffee mug from the cabinet. “Support, yeah, I get it. Don’t be embarrassed talking to me about that kind of stuff, all right?” Gladio shuts the cabinet and looks down at his friend. 

___________ is staring up at him, curious expression on her face. “Sorry, it’s just—it's not awkward?” 

Gladio shrugs, reaching for the coffee pot. “Bodies are bodies,” he says. “And we all have different needs.” 

“I’m a girl though.” 

“Sweetheart,” says Gladio, taking a long drag from the mug. He smacks his lips at the bitter black drink. “Damn that’s good. You make a strong pot,” he laughs. 

___________ smiles up at him and sips her own coffee. 

“Where was I? Oh, right. Bodies are bodies, like I said. Not all nudity has to be pornographic, and not every discussion about a body part has to be sexual. You dig?” 

She blushes and nods. “Okay. Sorry. It’s just...really different from how I was raised.” 

“You don’t embarrass me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Gladio gently. “You never have. I’m glad we’re each who we are. I wouldn’t change you for anything.” He smiles, hoping that he’s reassuring her. 

“I haven’t really worn a bathing suit in a long time,” she mumbles, clutching the hot mug in both hands and stroking one thumb over the rim. “When I was younger, like when I first started gaining all that weight for reasons we didn’t understand at the time, I wore mostly black, one-piece bathing suits with a super high neckline. And then I’d actually—ha, get this! I’d actually put men’s swim trunks over it. And sometimes even a t-shirt.” She sighs, shoulders dropping under the weight of societal beauty standards. “I just remember crying and crying. Swimming, an activity that I used to love...suddenly I was too big. I couldn’t be free. Couldn’t hope around in skimpy little bikinis like my peers. No one wanted to see all of my skin anymore. I had to cover up. I had to shrink. And eventually, I quit swimming altogether.” She glances back up at Gladio with tears in her eyes. “Why did you even want to be friends with me, Gladio? I’ve never understood it. I’m nothing like you at all.” She sniffs hard, coffee mug shaking in her short, chubby fingers. 

“Hey, hey, don’t--not again,” Gladio sighs. He sets his cup on the counter, then takes __________’s mug from her hands and draws her into a hug. 

__________ flushes hot from head to toe at feeling so much of Gladio’s bare skin against her, but she nuzzles into his chest all the same, pressing her ear close to hear his grounding, even heartbeat, letting the hot tears stream down her cheeks with no attempt to wipe them away. 

“You want an honest answer?” Gladio asks, thumbing softly over the bare skin of her back, smiling to himself as he feels her goosebumps. “You look like you needed a friend. For some reason, I was just drawn to you.” 

“But why,” she blubbers. 

“Sometimes we don’t know why,” Gladio answers softly. “Somehow, I just knew that we needed each other. And here we are. Aren’t you happy with me?” 

__________ buries her face in Gladio’s solid chest and sniffs hard. “The happiest I’ve ever been,” she replies. 

___________ follows Gladio out into the warm, calm water. It’s nearing evening already, and the only other souls are several hundred feet in the other direction. At least here, a couple of yards from shore, Gladio’s lower half is under the water, and __________ is blessedly free from being face-to-face with Gladio’s bulge. The sun is just above the horizon, and the streetlights on the boardwalk have already illuminated the rows of beach camps in their bright fluorescent light. Gladio can touch the bottom and still have his shoulders above water, but __________ can barely touch on her tiptoes to the sandy bottom, so she allows herself to lightly tread water and get sloshed around by the gentle current. She and Gladio get deep into conversation about everything and nothing at all; and ___________’s mind can’t help but think about how easy it would be to actually date Gladiolus Amicitia. 

When they get back to the boardwalk, they duck into two adjacent shower stalls and use the provided combination shampoo-conditioner-body wash that’s locked onto the old wooden walls. __________ thinks that she does kind of miss the hot springs in the middle of nowhere, but she’s grateful for the running water, nonetheless, even if she has a hard time peeling off her bathing suit and washing her body of sand and salt water, and putting it back on while soaking wet. When she draws open the shower curtain, Gladio is there, smiling at her and holding out her extra-long towel. There are public bathrooms near the outdoor showers, and after the friends relieve themselves, they had back up into the camp, tired and happy. They brush their teeth with bottled water, and Gladio gives _________ the bathroom for changing into her pajamas. They fall into bed together, Gladio hugging her close on instinct as they drift off into dreams. 

The next morning, __________ is much more prepared for Gladio’s tiny bathing suit. She’s pouring coffee—over the counter this time—and has found the stash of cereal that’s in one of the cabinets, eating out of a paper bowl with a plastic spoon. Gladio comes in, hair slicked back, towel around his shoulders, and smiles. 

“Oh, hey, uh. Would you take a picture of me? For my fitness blog?” 

__________ blinks slowly and tilts her head. “Oh, your fitness blog? That’s cool, I didn’t know you had one.” 

“Oh yeah,” says Gladio, laughing and slinging the towel over the chair. “Look me up sometime. I’m ‘amicitiagainz’ on Tumblr.” 

“Oh, for sure,” __________ lies, reaching for her cell phone on the corner and turning on the camera. 

Gladio does a few poses and flexes, really knowing which way to angle his thighs and curve his spine to get the best reflection in the brightly-lit kitchen. __________ even squats down to get some artistic upshots of Gladio’s stunning body in the Speedo. _Great! More masturbation fodder_ , she thinks guiltily as she sends Gladio the pictures so he can post them. She also sends one of the more modest ones to Libra with the message _Please tell me why the_ _Astrals_ _are torturing me by letting me be alone in a beach camp with this boy,_ followed by some crying emojis. 

“Looks like you got some sun yesterday,” Gladio says, glancing up from his phone. 

“Oh, uh, yeah I guess I did. I usually fry, but...I guess you got some really good sunscreen huh?” 

“Only the best,” Gladio nods as he finishes tapping away and editing the pictures. “Hey,” he says, looking up a moment later. 

___________ is trying not to laugh too hard at Libra’s all-caps responses that are making her phone vibrate as if it’s ringing. “What,” she says, trying to stifle giggles, looking back up at Gladio. 

“We haven’t had a selfie since we’ve been here! We got some at the haven. C’mon, for the ‘gram.” 

“Ugh, okay,” ___________ says, putting down her phone. As much as Gladio says that the pink tankini flatters her, she still can’t help but feel subconscious. Surely someone who looks like Libra would look much better in a swimsuit photo, she thinks. But Gladio reaches out his hand and pulls her away from her cereal and coffee and puts his arm around her, pulling her close—and __________ can’t help but smile as she leans her head against his warm skin. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'll show up, and walk by  
> On the arm of that guy  
> And I'll smile, and you'll wave  
> We'll pretend it's ok"
> 
> Dammit, blink-182

“Six weeks left in the semester already,” ___________ says, only half paying attention to the assignment in front of her. 

Libra looks up from her bed, laptop perched on some pillows. Her furious typing slows as she tilts her head at her roommate. “Gosh, yeah. It seems like yesterday, we were just moving in.” Libra smiles. “You worried about finals at all?” 

___________ shrugs. “A little, I mean. I have all As, as long as I keep a 3.5 GPA, my scholarship is gucci. You?” 

“Nah,” says Libra. “I’m making As and Bs. Fine by me.” She pauses for a second, then, “So. You ever gonna talk to me about your spring break or not?” 

___________ can’t help but blush. Spring break was over a week ago. She and Gladio had spent a total of two nights at the beach before camping at the haven one last time, finally coming home on Thursday so that they could be prepared for the return to class (and also to play Dungeons and Dragons on Saturday night with James and the others). Aside from having no running water, she really did have fun roughing it with Gladio. “Dude,” she says rolling her eyes and attempting to re-read the math problem in front of her. “I told you literally everything that happened.” 

“You mean to tell me you were alone for five days with _the_ Gladiolus Amicitia, with two of those days being at the beach with the boy wearing a fucking _Speedo_ , and you didn’t have sex with him? No making out? Not even dry-humping?!” Libra shakes her head. “You are a goddamn saint. I would have been prancing around him in my booty shorts,” she laughs. 

___________ snorts and rolls her eyes again. “I’m embarrassed enough that he even saw me in the bathing suit,” she says. “And, like I told you. He doesn’t like me like that. We’re just good friends, okay?” 

“Right, because typical friend behavior is sleeping in the same bed and bathing in a hot spring together.” 

“We closed our eyes when we were getting in and out!” ___________ huffs. “And okay, I wouldn’t know how most friendships go because I didn’t have a ton of friends growing up. Gladio’s just so different, and he’s just very free with his, uh. Affection.” 

“Uh huh,” says Libra. “Free with affection. Don’t you mean, flirting with you and you’re too dense to realize it?” 

“I think I would know if he was flirting with me,” _________ says, scribbling down numbers she thinks are the answers to her pre-calculus questions. 

Libra stares at her oblivious roommate. “You wouldn’t know if someone was flirting with you if they straight-up _said_ they were flirting with you. Honestly. On your wedding day, you’re probably going to be standing at the altar, asking your husband, ‘Hey are we getting married as just friends or do you actually like me?’” 

__________ opens her mouth to protest, then thinks better of it. “Well, I can’t argue with you on that one.” 

“Damn right you can’t. I’m telling you, girl. You should just _ask_ Gladio how he feels about you.” 

“And he’s gonna tell me he’s my friend, end of story, so why should I bother?” 

“You’re hopeless. You’re gonna spend your whole college career pining silently after one of the most eligible bachelors in Insomnia, aren’t you?” 

“Hey, I never claimed to be smart when it comes to relationships.” 

“Oh, for sure,” says Libra, laughing and going back to her essay. “I swear. You guys need to get your act together. Don’t tell me you don’t see what people comment on his Instagram.” 

__________ lowers her pencil. “Wait. What are you talking about?” 

Libra doesn’t stop the flow of her hands on the keyboard. “Every single time he posts a picture of the two of you—which is quite often, you know—people comment and ask if you two are a couple.” 

“They...they do? People think that? But I’m--I’m _me_ , and he’s--he’s nobility. Shield of Prince Noctis. Like.” She throws her pencil down in exasperation, holding one hand flat above her head. “He’s up here, in this league--” she holds her other hand, palm down, at her waistline, “--and I’m down here, bottom of the barrel. You can’t honestly tell me that people think we look _good_ together!” 

Libra smirks as she continues to write. “I dunno girlfriend, I’m just telling you what I see. Why don’t you go on Insta and see for yourself?” 

“Fine, I will.” __________ sets her math homework aside and reaches for her phone. Unlocking it, she sees that she’s missed a few messages from none other than Gladiolus Amicitia himself. “Ah, damn. Missed a message from Gladio asking about dinner.” She checks the time stamp. “Damn, thirty minutes ago! I hope he didn’t eat already.” She pushes the phone icon next to his name. 

Sol watches as Gladio’s face lights up like a Christmas tree as the phone on his desk vibrates. He grabs it and swipes, answering on the first ring. The baseball player shakes his head, wondering when his otherwise-brilliant roommate is going to admit that he’s stupid in love with the chubby girl upstairs. 

“Bro,” says Gladio. “Where were you?” 

“Sorry dude, I’m trying to finish this pre-cal assignment,” ___________ laughs. 

“Ooooooh, yeah...” Gladio clears his throat. “I uh. Totally, totally finished that one.” 

“You’re a horrible liar.” 

“Hey now,” Gladio purrs, stretching and leaning back in the tiny desk chair. “That ain’t very nice.” 

“Sorry my guy, I call ‘em like I see ‘em.” 

Gladio snorts and shakes his head. He feels his heart rate speed up a little—he figures it’s probably the energy drink kicking in. “You hungry?” 

“I am pretty hungry, yeah. Caf is closed, though.” 

“Kenny Crow’s?” 

“I can’t, my mom wasn’t able to give me a lot of money this week, so--” 

“Do I ever say anything about paying?” Gladio grunts. “C’mon, you should know our routine by now.” 

___________ bites her lip and sighs. “I know, I just—I never want to assume, y’know.” 

“It’s never a problem, __________,” Gladio says. “If I couldn’t pay, I wouldn’t offer.” 

“Okay, if you’re sure.” 

“Duh,” says Gladio. “Been cravin’ bacon fries with my bestie.” 

__________ laughs, and Gladio grins widely at the sound. “Dude we had bacon fries two days ago.” 

“It’s _always_ time for bacon fries,” says Gladio. “You comin’ down or what?” 

“Okay, yes, but we can’t stay long. I really want to finish this assignment.” 

“Bring your books and I’ll bring mine and we can finish there?” 

“Yeah? Okay Gladio, sounds good. I’ll see you in a second.” 

“It’s a date,” says Gladio, without thinking. He sets the phone back on his desk and hangs up, standing to stretch. 

“My man,” says Sol, flopping on his bed. “You’re killin’ me. Your life is like a damn soap opera.” 

Gladio chuckles. “Well that came out of nowhere,” says the young shield, stepping into his tennis shoes and digging a fresh shirt from his chest of drawers. “What do you mean?” 

“Are you ever gonna ask that poor girl out?” 

Gladio pauses, turning to his roommate with wide eyes. “What are you talking about?” 

“Dude,” says Sol, grabbing his phone to check his social media. “Do you not realize that you two do literally everything together? You take her out to eat constantly. You buy her nice shit. You took her to a private beach for Spring Break. She’s all over your social media.” 

Gladio blinks. “I mean,” he says, tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth. “We’re...we’re friends?” 

“Friends, huh,” says Sol. “I dunno bro. You two just seem awfully close. You sure you don’t like her?” 

Gladio shrugs. “I mean, yeah I like her, else I wouldn’t be friends with her. She’s just different, y’know? Not like the girls I’m used to hanging around. But I mean. It’s not like I want to kiss her or anything.” 

“Okay,” says Sol. “Just checkin’. You don’t want to lead her on, y’know, if that’s not how you feel about her.” 

“I think I’ve been pretty clear about our friendship,” says Gladio, grabbing his wallet and his keys, shoving them into his jeans pocket. He grabs his backpack and makes sure he has his math book and a notebook and his TI-85 calculator. He shoulders it, then looks again at Sol. “Have people been talking?” 

Sol smirks. “I mean, yeah, a little, but you know how people are. They’ll talk about everything, especially at this school.” 

Gladio scoffs. “You don’t have to tell me,” he says. “Shoulda gone to King’s College across town. Bigger, public. Could’ve been more anonymous.” He sighs. “But dad’s all about reputation, y’know? A piece of paper stamped with _Insomnia University_ is more fitting for an Amicitia, I guess.” Gladio shrugs. “It didn’t matter to me where I went, but...’snot like I have a lot of choice in much of anything.” 

“Yeah bro,” says Sol gently. “Most people are probably envious of you, but I know how hard you have to work, and how careful you have to be in public.” 

“Yeah,” says Gladio swallowing hard. 

The knock on the door makes him jump, but he’s smiling again in a second. “I’ll see you. Don’t wait up for me.” 

Sol laughs. “I never do. Go have fun.” 

“Wow, our beach pictures got a lot of likes,” __________ says around another mouthful of bacon fries. 

Two orders of the famous dish sit in the middle of the table, along with the remains of burgers and milkshakes. Gladio idly picks at the plain fries on his own plate, rolling the greasy potatoes in his fingers. His pre-cal book is open, and he’s written down the problems from the chapter review section that was assigned—but for some reason, he can’t seem to concentrate, even though Kenny’s isn’t that crowded. He glances at his phone--it’s ten o’clock, but time seems to be trickling along like molasses. 

“Huh,” he says, glancing up from the mess of number on his paper. 

“Oh, sorry. I just said our beach pics got a lot of likes.” __________ is on Gladio’s Instagram, scrolling through the posts he’d tagged her in. Sure enough, just like Libra had said, there were multiple comments from both men and women in Gladio’s social circle, asking things like _who’s the cute girl in the picture,_ _Gladdy_ _?!_ __________ comes across one that really puts a knife in her gut: _You two look like a couple, I’m so jelly! ____________ swallows hard and clicks on the comment to reply. “Ha, Gladio . Get this. This girl, on one of your pictures, she says we look like a couple.” It comes out a little more bitter than she’d meant it, but there’s no way to take back the words. She fakes a goofy grin as she types a response. “I’m gonna say, _haha_ _, a couple of besties!_ What do you think?” 

“Oh, yeah, cool,” says Gladio as the numbers swirl across the lined paper. His roommate’s words are still swirling in his mind. Is he really coming on too strong? He might’ve been a little flirty at first, but that was to coax _________ out of her shell. Besides, she seems mostly unaffected by his usual behaviors. Shirtless equals confused, for the most part. Gladio thinks about how much she blushes, and then realizes that she does it pretty much all the time, even at the slightest shred of attention, so he figures that’s just her natural response. She doesn’t try to actively flirt or act suggestively to him, but Gladio figures that since she’s never had a boyfriend, that’s due to inexperience more than anything else. 

So... what does all of that add up to? Gladio sighs. It’s as confusing as the math on his notebook. He reminds himself that he can have almost any girl he wants. He’s come close, a handful of times—but strangely, right as things are about to get heated, Gladio’s mind suddenly goes blank, and he becomes almost completely uninterested. He’s turned down so many casual dates this year, he’s lost count. He frowns, wondering if he’s losing his edge. He has no problem getting it up when he’s alone—as far as he knows, he’s healthy, and his libido is the same as ever. He idly wonders if it’s psychosomatic, and if he needs to see a doctor. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Huh?” Gladio looks up. __________’s phone is face down on the table, pre-calculus book closed and shoved to the side. She’s looking at him with concern. “Nothin’s wrong.” 

“Okay, you’ve just gone through about five different emotions on your face in the last two minutes. Are you sure? Remember, you’re a terrible liar.” 

Gladio’s shoulders sag. “I dunno, buddy. I’m just...first of all, this math isn’t making sense.” 

“Oh, _here_.” _________ reaches across and grabs his notebook full of unfinished problems and gets to work, still speaking as she maps out the answers. “Math is getting done. So, what else is bugging you?” 

Gladio sighs. Not even the bacon fries are helping at this point. “Okay, this is gonna—you're gonna laugh.” 

_________ pauses and looks up, adjusting her glasses. “I won’t laugh.” 

“Okay. Uh.” Gladio exhales slowly. “So like. I haven’t had a girlfriend since I graduated high school.” 

“And that’s rough for you,” __________ teases, smirking as she does Gladio’s homework. 

“You said you wouldn’t laugh.” 

“I’m not laughing, I’m smiling.” 

“You’re smiling like a comic book villain.” 

__________ snorts and shakes her head. “Continue, meathead.” 

“Alright, look, it’s just...” Gladio leans low across the table and whispers. “I haven’t had sex since last June.” 

“Bummer,” __________ mutters, blushing in spite of herself. 

“But the thing is, is that...” Gladio exhales. “I dunno. Like, I can’t...no one is, uh. Appealing? To me? Right now? And I’m just...concerned?” 

___________ looks up slowly, blinking behind smudged blue glasses. “Are you gay?” 

Gladio shakes his head. “I’m--I mean I dated a guy once. So I’m bisexual, I guess? But like. _No one_ is flipping the switch right now. Do you get me? It doesn’t matter the gender.” 

__________’s cheeks flush red as she looks back down at the pre-calculus homework. “Are you having trouble, like. Um. Doing it. Yourself?” She _knows_ that Gladio’s cock must be working properly—she's _felt_ it. 

Gladio flushes a bit and shakes his head. “No, I can get off fine.” 

“But you don’t...feel desire. For anyone else.” 

Gladio shakes his head. “It’s just weird, I guess. I’ve never—it's never been like this.” 

“I think you’re just not used to being single,” __________ says quietly. “Don’t worry Gladio. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. You’re under a lot of stress with school, your training, having those responsibilities to the prince, the expectations of your dad.” She shrugs. “I mean I think as long as like, uh. You can...like you obviously still feel arousal fine, so I don’t think it’s anything to really worry about.” 

“You think?” 

“I think,” __________ nods, looking up at him again, smiling. “And see, I didn’t laugh.” 

“Okay,” says Gladio. He leans back and runs his hands through his hair. “Thanks for talking to me about it.” 

“You find someone,” ____________ reassures him. 

“Yeah,” Gladio confirms. He doesn’t miss the sadness in her voice. “And hey—chin up. So will you.” 

___________ just hums as she scribbles down the final answer to the math problem and closes the notebook, sliding it across the table. 

__________ 

Two weeks later, __________ finds herself holed up in the on-campus coffee shop one Wednesday night, alone for a rare coffee and bagel without her beefy best friend. She’s working on an end-of-semester study guide for one of their international politics classes, but only marginally—she's been in this armchair for an hour, iced coffee cup long gone empty, legs numb. Gladio’s training at the Citadel, and __________ has a rough idea of when he’ll be back on campus, but she also knows to expect that he’ll inevitably be delayed with some important business or other. He _is_ the shield of the prince, after all. 

But, as if on cue, her phone buzzes and __________ looks up from the study guide and book in her lap. She smiles at the messages from Gladio and is typing a reply when she registers someone plopping down into the empty chair next to her table. She looks up and is surprised to see one of her classmates from...is it the literature class? Science class? Maybe he’s in both. 

“Oh my gods, you’re finally alone,” he laughs nervously, raking his hands through his curly hair. 

“I--is it weird for me to be alone?” __________ tilts her head at him. “You’re--Mel, right?” 

“Wow, you know my name. Gosh. Wow. Okay. Sorry, I just...I’m so bad at talking to people.” 

_________ smiles warmly and finishes her message to Gladio, putting the phone down on her lap. “Hey, I am too. Don’t be nervous. What’s up?” 

“Oh, nothing. I. Um. Sorry about the remark, I just—you're usually with that giant, and I just--” 

“Oh, you mean Gladio?” __________ waves her hand and scoffs. “He’s a big softie, don’t let him intimidate you. He’s really nice actually.” 

“Yeah um. I didn’t come here to talk about your friend.” 

“Oh.” __________ lifts an eyebrow, bristling at the curt tone. “Then what did you want to talk about? Homework?” 

Mel scoffs, shaking his head. “Holy balls, I am so bad at this. Um.” His soft brown eyes flick away, and then back to her. “I was wondering if you’d want to go out on a date?” 

It’s like one of those movie scenes, captured in slow motion with music and animated birds and other ridiculous effects. __________ just stares at this man she barely knows, has only spoken to in college-related conversations. She feels blood rush to her face, feels herself get riddled with goosebumps. 

“Wha...what?” She clears her throat. “Um, I...” 

“I think you’re pretty,” Mel blurts out, fidgeting. “Like, really pretty. But it’s like you’re never alone. You’re always with that other guy. I didn’t know—if you’re dating him, just say that.” 

___________ shakes her head furiously. “No, we’re not—it's not like that. He’s just my friend.” 

“So you’re single.” 

“Well um. Yeah.” 

“Okay, cool. Then go on a date with me.” 

___________ just stares, not sure how to mentally process this. Is this what normal people do? Just go on dates with strangers and see if they like each other? No friendship first, no buildup? “I--I’m sorry, Mel, um. I’m just—can we be friends first? And then maybe see where things go?” 

Mel chuckles nervously and shakes his head. “That’s not—okay, I guess I really misunderstood.” 

“I’m confused.” 

Mel sighs. “You’re single, but you’re not _available_.” 

__________ raises an eyebrow. “I don’t--those are the same thing?” 

“They’re not,” says Mel. “Even if you did say yes, I can tell you wouldn’t be into it.” 

“Hey, whoa.” __________ frowns. “You don’t know that. I’m not saying _no_ , I said I’d just like to be friends first. Look, I’m not sure how things are typically done. I’ve never been seriously asked out before. I just think I would like to be friends with someone before being, um. Romantically involved.” 

Neither one of them sees the person who’s approaching the pair of worn, leather armchairs. __________ hears a cough, and she looks up immediately, eyes growing wide as though she’s a chocobo in headlights. 

“Hey, uh—Gladio! You’re back quicker than I thought.” 

Gladio folds his arms, and it doesn’t take much for him to exude that “don’t mess with me” aura. “Who’s this?” 

“Nobody,” says Mel, rising, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Sorry to have bothered you, __________. See you in class.” Mel brushes past Gladio, knocking into him a little as he leaves. 

Gladio stands still and watches the other boy scurry away before turning back to his friend. “What was that all about?” 

__________ laughs nervously. “I think I just blew my first shot at an actual date.” 

Gladio relaxes his arms as his eyes widen. “What?” 

“I’m so stupid,” _________ mutters. “Why didn’t I just say _yes_?” 

“Whoa, sweetheart, back up,” Gladio mumbles, falling into the now-empty chair. “What’s this about a date?” 

“That was Mel, from--” 

“He’s in our biology class,” Gladio says quickly. 

“Biology, _that’s_ where. Well, he just—he asked me out on a date.” 

“...Oh.” Gladio’s ears feel like they’re on fire. His throat feels dry, his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. 

“Yeah he said he thought I was really pretty, and he asked me out on a date.” 

“And?” Gladio’s not able to form sentences at the moment. _Hello, brain to mouth, please connect._

___________ shrugs. “I didn’t exactly tell him _no_ , but I did say that I would like to be friends first, and then like, work our way up?” She looks at Gladio sadly. “I blew it, didn’t I? All my bitching about being single and then suddenly when a guy shows interest, I’m an idiot and I fuck it up.” 

“Hey,” says Gladio—and wow, is that his voice? He clears his throat, attempting not to speak with the pitch of a twelve-year-old. “Hey, you’re not—you're not an idiot. You didn’t fuck up.” 

“Is it too late for me to go after him?” __________ says, in a panic, fumbling with the school work on her lap. “God dammit, I can’t--fuck, I just can’t win!” 

And Gladio sits there, helpless, as he watches his friend shove her books and papers and phone into her backpack, standing up in a hurry, slinging it on her back. He watches her rush out of the coffee shop and into the wide open space of the university center, to try and catch up with their dejected classmate. 

And Gladio’s so terribly jealous—and he can’t figure out why. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio stares at his phone for several long minutes before resuming his workout. When he’s exhausted himself, he meanders to the showers and gets himself off to the memory of his best friend’s smiling face. What is happening to me? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah, I'm SO sorry. Thank you for your patience. I had to take a little bit of a hiatus over the holidays, for personal reasons. I hope you all have enjoyed my other one-shots I've posted in the meantime. I hope I'm back on a regular schedule now. Life happens, y'know? Anyway. Thanks again. Enjoy the chapter.

“Wait!” __________ rounds the corner, skidding to a halt as she sees Mel leaning up against the exposed brick wall of the long, first-floor hallway that houses various student services and conference rooms. He’s frowning, face still flushed with slight embarrassment, looking at his phone absently. “Mel, hey...”

He snaps up, gaping at his classmate pathetically. “You...came after me?”

“Listen, I—I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry if I did, honest.” She chuckles nervously. “I, uh. Well no one’s ever asked me out before, y’know? I’ve only ever had crushes on friends that didn’t...go as planned, when I confessed. I just didn’t know what to do. I’ve never been on like a blind date. Or...a sudden date. Whatever you  wanna call it.” _________ scuffs her feet and grips her backpack tighter. “Um, I do. Really. Wanna go out with you. We can...we can try. If you still want.” She blinks back up at her classmate. 

Mel’s face has softened, and he slips his phone into his pocket and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry I got so defensive. Uh. You just seem really attached at the hip with that  Gladio guy...”

__________ shrugs. “I mean we’re like best friends, but he doesn’t like me. Not like that.”

Mel stares. “ ....Do you like him? I’m not into being a rebound, or a pawn to make him jealous.”

__________ shakes her head furiously. “No, it’s not like that at all! I do  wanna go out with you. I’ve never had like, a real date before. I promise I’m not saving myself for anyone.” She smiles. “Really, Mel. I’ll go on a date with you. I’d be honored.”

Mel smiles and nods. “Okay,” he says. “No hard feelings huh?”

__________ shakes her head. “No.  Gladio’s great, but I swear. We’re not even like friends with benefits or anything.” _ I’d take that if Gladio wanted _ , she thinks to herself.  _ But maybe it’s not meant to be. This guy actually came up and asked me.  _

“Great,” says Mel, drawing his phone from his pocket again. “Uh, can I have your number? I  gotta get going now, but I’ll text you with a time and place to meet up later, and you let me know if that works for you.” 

__________ nods. “I do have to say, I don’t have a car.” She takes his phone and opens up a  _ new contact  _ slot, inputting her name and number. 

Mel grins. “I’ll pick you up from in front of the art building, then.”

_______

“Hey,” says  Gladio as they’re walking to one of their final literature classes of the semester. “You  wanna do Kenny Crow’s tonight?”

__________ blinks up at her best friend. “Uh,  Gladio ? I have a date tonight, remember?”

Gladio stops walking and raises an eyebrow. “Wait--again? But you went out last week.”

__________ shrugs. “Yeah? I had fun.  So we’re going out again. To play glow-in-the-dark mini golf,” she says with a shy smile. “I’ve never been before.”

Gladio’s brain snaps into action before he can filter-- “Well,  _ we  _ could’ve gone.”

A pause, then, “Well, we didn’t.  So I’m going with Mel. We can go another time, okay? Don’t you have training tonight anyway?”

Gladio opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. Instead, he watches his best friend meander down the sidewalk towards the  university center and the cafeteria within. 

“ Gladio ,” says Noctis, holding the point of his engine blade to the shield’s throat for the third time that evening. “Big guy, c’mon. Are you letting me win?”

Gladio grits his teeth and spits, trying to stop the onslaught of hot tears he feels burning at the edges of his eyes. “Nope,” he grunts, stumbling to his feet, picking up his training broadsword. “You’re getting' better I guess.”

Noctis lets his sword dissipate back into the Armiger and folds his arms. “I’m not buying that. Not good enough to knock you on your ass  _ three _ times. Something’s up.”

Gladio sighs. “Okay, look—don't tell my dad about today.” 

Noctis cocks his head. “ So there  _ is _ something wrong. You know, you talk about college a lot. But I’m sure it’s hard. Are you sure you’re okay? If there’s anything I can do, I mean.” The prince shrugs. “I know I’m just in high school but you’re like a big brother, Gladio. I don’t like seeing you upset.” 

Gladio smiles at Noctis—the prince might be bratty and moody, but deep down,  Gladio knows he cares about those closest to him. He feels lucky to be included in  Noct’s concern. “Thanks princess,” he says softly. “I just, uh. A little distracted is all. I haven’t--I’m dealing with something, but I’m not even sure how to describe it.” 

“Yeah?  Well I’m all ears.” Noctis slumps to the ground, ass hitting the soft training mat. “Shoot.”

Gladio chuckles. “I’m not sure you’d understand.” 

The young prince folds his arms and shakes his sweat-slicked bangs from his forehead, leaning back against the padded wall. “Try me.”

Gladio sighs. “Okay, well. I uh. My friend, __________, right?”

Noct’s dark blue eyes light up. “Oh, yeah! The one you’re always telling me about. What about her?”

“Well, she’s...she’s never dated before. But in the past couple of weeks, one of our classmates has asked her out twice now.”  Gladio frowns.  _ Right now _ , she’s out with this random guy, playing mini golf. Laughing at  _ his _ jokes. Letting  _ him _ buy her food. Dressing up for  _ him _ .  Gladio swallows down the nausea. 

Noctis cocks his head. “So, what? Is he like, mistreating her?”

Gladio shakes his head. “No, I mean, if he  _ was, _ I think she’d tell me, but, uh...”

Noct’s face softens. “What, big guy? You jealous or somethin’?”

Gladio swallows. “I, yeah, I think, maybe I am. But I don’t know  _ why _ .”

“Is it because you’ve been single for so long?”

Gladio shrugs. “I  dunno . Maybe? But it’s not for lack of trying.”

Noctis lifts a dark, angular eyebrow. “Wait, wait, back up. Are you saying you’re having trouble getting dates?”

“No, that’s just it,”  Gladio sighs in frustration. “Girls have come at me left and right. And I’ve...”

“You’ve turned ‘ em down,” Noctis finishes. “Just no chemistry, or what?”

“I don’t  _ know _ ,” the shield grunts in frustration. “Like, they’re all the type of girl I dated before, in high school. Nobility, model-like bodies, presidents of sororities, captain of the volleyball team...that sort of shit.” He grits his teeth. 

“You jerkin’ off fine?”

Gladio barks out a laugh. “Thanks for the concern, princess. All’s fine downstairs, I promise.” 

“Just  askin ’,”  Noct giggles. “Well, I don’t know, Gladio. Are you like...do you wanna be with your friend, instead, maybe?”

Gladio pauses. Sol has asked him this question about a hundred thousand times in the past month, and each time,  Gladio’s denied it. What’s wrong with being super close to someone in a platonic way, he argues? He hasn’t thought about kissing __________, that he’s been consciously aware of. Sure, she’s soft, and nice to hold, and she’s pretty, and kind, and selfless, and funny, and always down for Kenny Crow’s, and willing to try new things with him...but,  he doesn’t want to  _ date  _ her. 

Does he? 

“I don’t...I don’t know,” Gladio answers. 

Noctis only hums. “If you like her like that, you should tell her, Gladio.”

“Y-yeah.”  Gladio scratches at his neck. “I’m  gonna hit the showers, Noct.”

“Sure thing.” The prince bounces up, lazily slipping his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, and  Gladio dumbly follows. 

______

Between studying for finals and actually taking them,  Gladio and __________ have less time for casual hangouts, finding themselves in the library or  each others’ dorm rooms, studying and filling out review guides and churning out final projects.  Gladio’s also been slowly moving things out of his dorm room and back to the Amicitia mansion; along with helping _________ start to pack and move her things as well, so that when the final day of their freshman semester comes, it won’t be as stressful. 

She glances up from their biology book, hearing her phone ping. 

Gladio’s chest begins to ache when he sees her smile at the screen. “What’s up?”

__________ turns. “Oh--nothing! Sorry, I’ll put it on silent. Um. Mel was just asking me if I wanted to go out again after finals were over. To celebrate.”

“You really like him?”

__________ shrugs. “I mean...yeah? Yes, I guess. I  dunno Gladio. I’ve never done this before.”

“Does he treat you good?”  Gladio mumbles, staring at the same sentence he’s been staring at for nearly a half-hour. 

“Well, of course. He always compliments me, and he opens doors and stuff, always pays.” _________ smiles. “I don’t know if we’re...well we haven’t called each other boyfriend or girlfriend or anything. It’s still very...new.  But, I like him. He’s nice. He’s cute. And he likes me. It’s more than I’ve ever had before.”

“Yeah,” says  Gladio tightly, swallowing hard. “I’m glad you’re having a good time with him.”

“ Thanks Gladio . That means a lot. Hey!” she says brightly, slugging him on the arm, missing at how  Gladio shivers a little at the contact. “You should ask out that girl from the other day. Uh. Elena? The one who came up to us in the gym. And then me and Mel, and you and Elena could do a double date after finals!”

Gladio nods absently. He’d gone to high school with Elena, but she hadn’t been on his radar. But  Gladio’s seen her around campus, and she’s had a couple of core classes with them over the course of the last year. She  _ had  _ said that she’d be open to anything, even though  Gladio had politely declined at first. She seemed nice, and damn she was pretty, with tanned skin, olive eyes, and dark hair, the kind of sorority bombshell that  Gladio had always been drawn to. 

“She’s really super pretty,  Gladio . She seemed to really like you.” 

“We went to high school together,”  Gladio mumbles, finally flipping the page, deciding that he’ll just have to come back to the life cycles of behemoths after his brain decides to cooperate. He grabs his own phone and brings up Elena’s Instagram page, hovering over the  _ message  _ feature. 

“Oh, wow! That’s cool  Gladio , you guys have that shared history.”

“Yeah,”  Gladio answers idly. He looks up—his best friend has lowered her phone for now, and has her nose back in chapter eighteen. He looks back down at Elena’s profile, and hits  _ message _ . 

________

They’re at a slightly nicer diner than Kenny Crow’s, but it’s still one with a cheesy vibe—jukebox playing in the corner, old lady waitresses wearing colorful dresses who haven’t changed their hair in twenty years, a menu that’s five pages and boasting over thirty different milkshakes. Neon lights run near the top of the ceiling, illuminating the black-and-white checkered floor and casting funky glares over the laminated menus. 

__________ and Mel are squished into one side of the red vinyl booth, with  Gladio and Elena on the other side. Mel laser-focuses on the menu, avoiding  Gladio’s thousand-yard stare from across the table. Elena and _________ are much more cordial with each other, laughing and giggling over trivial things. 

The waitress, Dolly, comes back to the table with their drinks—waters all around, and coffee for everyone except Elena. 

“ Y’all ready?” Dolly asks, putting the round tray under one arm and flipping a page in her order pad. 

Mel turns to his date. “Uh,” he says. “Are you—you ready?”

“Yeah!” __________ says, flicking her gaze from Mel to Dolly. “Um. I’ll have the Dave’s burger special, with um. No cheese. And sweet potato fries. And uh, can you add bacon to that?”

“ Sure thing honey.” She looks at Mel.

“I, uh. I’ll have the steak omelet, with  hashbrowns and sourdough toast. Make the  hashbrowns fried, smothered, and covered, country style. Um. And can I have hot sauce on the side.”

“Yessir. And for  you big guy?” asks Dolly, turning to Gladio. 

The young shield finally pries his eyes away from Mel and _________—he'd done the classic move of pretending to yawn and stretch, resting his arm around _________’s shoulders.  Gladio’s stomach is turning. “Uh,” he says finally. “I’ll take—Dave's special, make it a double. Extra cheese, extra tomato. Bacon cheese fries, And a chocolate milkshake, with two straws.”

Dolly nods as Elena says, “Oh Gladdy, I’m sorry baby. I’m not eating ice cream right now. But thank you.” Elena looks up at the server. “I’ll just have a salad with grilled chicken, no croutons. With light ranch, please.”

Dolly nods, scribbling the last of the orders on her worn-out pad. “Gotcha, darlin’. I’ll have this in for  ya right away.” She collects the menus and heads to the kitchen. 

Gladio turns to Elena. “No milkshake? Aw c’mon ‘Lena, we just got through our freshman year of college! We have to celebrate!”

Elena gazes at  Gladio apologetically. “I’m on another round of the 21-day beach body diet,” she says, shrugging. 

Gladio frowns a little, biting his tongue at the fad diet mention. He looks across to ________, who’s giving him an affectionate glance.  _ She would share the milkshake with me _ , he thinks. And he immediately feels guilty afterwards, so  Gladio cards his arm around Elena, confident and cool like he always is. 

The rest of dinner goes smoothly, with even Mel and  Gladio finding some common ground to chat about. When they’re ready to leave,  Gladio asks Dolly for two to-go cups for the milkshake he hadn’t even touched. He distributes it evenly and hands the cups to Mel and __________. 

“Here guys,” he says. “Enjoy.”

Mel gingerly takes the white  styrofoam cup with a small smile. “You sure, man?”

Gladio nods, flicking his gaze to his best friend. “You guys enjoy, on me.”

“ Gladio ,” ________ says softly. “You don’t have to--”

“Take it,”  Gladio teases. “I saw you looking at it all over dinner.”

__________ blushes and takes a sip, eyes growing wide. “ Oh wow that’s super good.” She holds it out to him. “Here, you ordered it. At least have a sip.” 

Gladio gingerly takes the cup and takes a few sips of it. “It’s really good, yeah. We’ll have to come back here.”

Mel drinks his portion silently, but he relaxes when ___________ grabs his hand, smiling at her profile. He looks at  Gladio as the tall, hulking shield turns away and leads Elena out of the diner. 

“So,”  Gladio says, once they’re all outside. “You guys  wanna do anything else?” 

“We could do the arcade?” __________ says, grinning wide. She turns to Elena. “We could challenge the guys to four-way air hockey!”

“Oh, it’s  _ on _ ,” says Gladio, locking eyes with Mel. “C’mon bro, we can’t let them beat us.”

Elena shifts nervously. “I’ve never played air hockey before...”

___________ laughs brightly. It makes  Gladio’s chest hurt—in a good way. 

“Don’t worry girl,” she says, grabbing Elena’s hand and leading her down the busy sidewalk towards the arcade around the next block. “I’ll show you. I’m a pro.  Gladio acts all big and bad but he  _ sucks _ at air hockey.”

“Hey!”  Gladio shouts, rushing after them. 

_______

Gladio’s wailing on a punching bag in the Citadel gym, wireless earbuds in his ears, shoulder-length hair tied up tight in a bun. He’s shirtless, only wearing gym shorts and socks and sneakers; his hands are wrapped in athletic tape and he’s throwing everything he’s got into beating up the bag. He and Elena have been on several more dates since school let out, but he’s been antsy about having sex, even though she’s clearly stated that she wants it.  Gladio doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, honestly. He still jacks off to  _ Sports Illustrated _ —but even then, he thinks it takes him longer than usual. 

Sometime later,  Gladio’s music cuts out of his  bluetooth earbuds, indicating a phone call. He pauses, wondering who’s needing to get a hold of him.  Prompto’s at his part time job, and rarely contacts  Gladio outside of association with Noctis; Ignis and Noctis are at the prince’s own apartment; his dad is with the king in a meeting, as usual.  Gladio stops to catch his breath, then wanders over to his duffel, digging out his phone to see an incoming facetime call from his best friend. Gladio grins and swipes. 

“Oh--sorry, did I interrupt your workout?” _________ says, licking her lips unconsciously as she gazes at  Gladio’s sweat-slicked skin. 

Gladio shakes his head, grabbing his towel and wiping his face as he holds up his phone. “Nah sweetheart, it’s fine. What’s up?”

“Sooooooo... I got this email from the grant people that funded my scholarship. My grades secured me for sophomore year approval, but there’s extra money in it for me if I get an internship in my major over the summer.”

“Yeah? That’s awesome buddy,” says Gladio. “I know how hard you worked. I’m glad you got the bag for next year.” He bends to grab his bottle of Powerade, chugging several sips. “So,” he says, swallowing. “Did you find an internship?”

“I sure the fuck did,” she laughs—and then she angles the phone to the left, and suddenly, his own father is staring him in the face. 

Gladio chokes. “Dad?”

Clarus laughs. “Good afternoon, son. Say hello to my summer intern.”

Gladio’s frozen. “You...you’re interning with my  _ dad _ ?”

The phone angles back to __________. “C’mon, I  wanna work for the foreign embassy one day. I figured with your dad’s position as shield, he’d be the best one to learn international politics from.”

Gladio can hear Clarus say, off-camera, “Don’t mind him, Miss ________. He doesn’t think I do anything important.” And then,  _ Regis’ _ voices cuts in, making  Gladio lose his mind, “It’s a wonder that son of yours has made such smart friends, Clarus.”

“Hey!” shouts  Gladio , blushing as _________ chuckles on screen, round squishy face contorting with laughter.  Gladio can see her shoulders shaking with the amusement, and knows that her whole soft, plump body is jiggling, like it always does when she laughs deeply. 

And a single thought comes to the forefront of  Gladio’s brain:  _ beautiful. _

“Anyway,” she says, wiping tears from behind her glasses. “I just thought you should know. I guess I’ll be seeing you around here a lot, huh dude?”

Gladio swallows. “Yeah, uh—yeah. Wow. That’s great. I’m glad dad is letting you work for him.”

“He’s a pretty cool guy,” __________ says, nodding. “Okay, I’ll let you get back to it. You’ll have to show me around the gym later. I miss our workouts.”

“Yeah, me too. Uh...”  Gladio trails. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”

“Okay!” She smiles widely at him, and ends the call. 

Gladio stares at his phone for several long minutes before resuming his workout. When he’s exhausted himself, he meanders to the showers and gets himself off to the memory of his best friend’s smiling face.  _ What is happening to me? _


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fate fell short this time, your smile fades in the summer"
> 
> Feeling This, blink-182

The first time, it’s definitely an accident. 

In the shower stall, Gladio’s mind kept revisiting the unbridled joy of his best friend as she sat there with his dad and his king, teasing him. The way the light streaming into the Citadel had reflected from her blue-framed glasses; the shine of her hair; the creases around her mouth and eyes when she smiles; the light peals of laughter as she’d surprised him. And Gladio had thought about her lips as he’d worked his hand over his cock under the hot water, and he’d erupted so fast he’d seen stars. 

The first time was an accident, and...well, she’s a girl, right? A pretty constant one in Gladio’s life...a _pretty_ one, Gladio thinks, and he’s told her as much. But she’s not the one he’s taking on dates and he feels so, so guilty. He and Elena haven’t graduated much past making out and heavy petting, even though Gladio knows what she’s doing when she wears tight jeans and crop tops, or snuggles up next to him in just a bra and incredibly short lounge shorts. This isn’t his first chocobo race; and normally, he’d have taken her to bed a month ago. But something is different now. Something is...wrong? Gladio’s beginning to think that _wrong_ is, well, the wrong word. 

Something is...changing? 

The second time, it’s definitely _not_ an accident. 

They’re three weeks into summer, three weeks into _________’s out-of-the-blue internship with Clarus Amicitia. Gladio gets to the Citadel for training, dragging along a half-asleep prince, even though it’s one pm. Prompto is, luckily, at his part-time job, so at least Noctis isn’t ditching practice to bum around the arcade; when Prompto’s free, Noctis is on him like white on rice, and even Gladio’s meanest face doesn’t intimidate like it should. 

So the young shield parks his truck, and Noctis ambles along behind him like a zombie movie extra—and the prince smacks his face into Gladio’s back. 

Noctis stumbles and rubs his jaw. “Hey, why’d you stop?” he mumbles, peering around Gladio to see what’s caught his attention. His face softens as he sees the scene that’s unfolding several yards down the brightly-lit corridor, and his mouth twists into a small _o_ when he looks up at Gladio’s face, which is frozen with clenched teeth and a slow-creeping blush that turns his ears crimson. 

Clarus, Regis, and ________ are standing close together; Regis is holding open a black leather portfolio, pointing and talking while the other two peer over the papers within and nod. The two older men address the young girl, who’s dressed in a pastel pink pants suit with a white coeurl-print blouse underneath and white flats, who gestures with her hands as she gives input. The king and his shield stand still and give her their undivided attention, letting her speak, not even chiming in when she pauses in the middle of her exposition to think. Regis periodically holds out the portfolio, and _________ points to a paragraph, and expands upon it; she points to Clarus, points to herself, speaks animatedly with her hands, clasping them as she finishes her point, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 

Noctis tickles along Gladio’s ribs to bring him back down to Eos. “Hey big guy, you gonna go say hi to your friend?” 

Gladio blinks slowly as though in a daze and turns sideways to Noctis. “She’s wearing a pants suit. She looks so... _professional_.” Gladio swallows hard. The pastel perfectly complements her skin tone, and she looks so at ease and comfortable around the king and his dad—admittedly two of the most intimidating men in Insomnia, by most people’s standards. And yet—they'd clearly asked for her input on a political matter, and had _listened_ to her, a girl they barely know who’s not even nineteen yet. 

“Yeah!” says Noct, trying to be excited, if only for Gladio’s benefit. He’s gotta admit, seeing a young woman next to his father and Clarus, talking about political science, is a bit of an odd picture, but he shrugs it off. She’s in college for the same thing Gladio is—no better way to start learning political science than to internship with the king and the head of the council himself. “C’mon man, they haven’t seen us yet. Let’s go say hi.” Noctis slides behind Gladio and pushes, urging the big guy forward. 

Gladio’s shaky knees somehow bend and his feet move of their own accord, and he can’t stop staring. He’s never seen these clothes before—he'd never imagined what she’d look like in a professional setting. With his _father_ , no less. Gladio coughs as they approach. _________ looks up from the portfolio, mouth slightly open; it widens into a grin that splits her face in two, and Gladio feels dead in the water, shot down out of the sky by an unexpected bullet. His lips are dry and he watches Noctis skirt from behind him and extend his hand to his friend. 

“Hey,” says Noctis casually. “I’m glad we could finally meet properly. I’m Noct. You must be _________. Gladio talks about you an awful lot.” 

Gladio bites back an embarrassed groan. If there’s a hell, he’s died and gone to it on a first-class ticket. He looks down at her—so much shorter than him, so feminine, so soft and round; her eyes are bright despite the light circles underneath them, and Gladio even sees a hint of tinted lip balm on her full lips. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. 

“Oh, hi, Prince Noctis! Oh—Noct. Um. Sorry, Gladio told me you don’t like formalities—sorry, it’s a habit. Uh. Anyway. It’s so nice to meet you. Gladio talks a lot about you, too.” She smiles, clasping Noct’s calloused hand in her own. She nods at the prince and lets his hand fall away; she drags her eyes up Gladio’s body, and suddenly, Gladio feels trapped under her attention. It’s not the easy, casual comradery of the past year—something's _changed_. “Hey dude,” she says, and Gladio feels himself relax just a hair at her words. This is _________—he _knows_ her. Then why the hell is he so nervous? 

“Hi,” says Gladio, and he has to clear his throat because suddenly his vocal cords sound like he’s 85? “Uh. You...nice suit?” 

She giggles. “Yeah, you like it? I found it on sale. Your dad has been very generous with my, um. My _intern stipend_ ,” she says, putting air quotes around the last two words. 

Gladio looks to his dad, who’s beaming. “Hey, my assistant has to look the part, after all,” Clarus says, shrugging. 

Something like hot steel digs into Gladio’s stomach and it takes him a minute to wrap his head around the idea of his father buying his best friend “professional” clothes, because she doesn’t have any. That the affection of his family towards __________ includes not only him, now, but Clarus as well. “It’s real nice, dad,” he says. Shit. Is he crying? “Thank you.” 

Clarus tilts his head. “No need to thank me, son,” the elder shield says, clapping his son on the shoulder. “We spent Christmas together, didn’t we?” He nods knowingly. “She might as well be a part of our family. She’s wicked smart, too.” He drops his hand and gestures to the open portfolio in Regis’ hands. “We’ve just been discussing the new import tariffs and trade deals with Accordo.” 

Regis clears his throat and snaps the portfolio shut. “Indeed. Many council members are very impressed with the instruction within Insomnia University, if your friend _________ here is any indication.” The king’s green eyes sparkle as he gazes at Gladio, and then at Noctis. “Keep an open mind, son. I have no doubt that this young lady will be a valuable member of your future council.” 

__________ blushes and looks away, scuffing her feet. “Aw shucks, not me. I still have a lot to learn. I’ve only had one year, and more than half of it was core classes.” 

“Then I look forward to watching you grow in your knowledge of political science,” Clarus chimes in. He places a hand on the king’s back. “We really should be getting lunch, Regis. Our boys have training to get to.” He nods at Gladio. “I’ve seen you grades from this year, son. I’m proud of you,” he says softly. “You’ve heeded my advice well. And I suspect I have a certain young lady for keeping you on the straight and narrow.” 

Gladio coughs. “Uh, yeah, she—we were in the library a _lot._ ” 

__________ laughs. “You can say that again.” She steps forward and wraps her arms around his middle, unable to hold back anymore. Gladio’s just so _handsome_ , and he’s been growing his hair out—it's shoulder length now, in long layers on top of an undercut. It’s in a cute man bun at the back of his head, and she can't wait to braid it. 

Gladio relaxes into her embrace so easily, you’d think he was butter in a hot skillet. He squeezes her tight, probably wrinkling the pastel pants suit, but he can’t care right now. He buries his nose in her hair. “I’m so proud of you,” he manages to murmur as a warmth spreads from the tips of his ears down to his toes. 

“Thank you, Gladio,” she whispers back. She rubs at his shirt, one of the many free _IU_ tees courtesy of Residence Life and their many programs they’d attended on campus. 

Gladio’s nerves burn, even after she pulls away and walks with Regis and Clarus down the hall to the elevator. 

Noctis watches them go, folding his arms and looking up at Gladio’s blank face. “You look like somebody died,” he says. 

“Just, uh--” Gladio starts, then shakes his head. “Nevermind. C’mon. Time for me to kick your ass.” 

Noctis smirks. Gladio thinks he’s subtle, but Noct can read him as well as he can read Old Lucian. Gladio’s gonna get distracted again, he just _knows_ it. “Sure big guy, let’s go.” Suddenly, Noctis thinks that this romp in the training grounds might actually be a little fun. 

The second time is not an accident. 

Gladio manages to hold it together and only let Noctis get the better of him once, but the prince still cuts it close, by Gladio’s personal standards. But Noctis only smirks like the cat that got the cream, and that only spurs Gladio on in their swordplay, pushing himself and his young prince to the limit. 

Noctis scrubs himself quickly, leaving the shower long before Gladio does, wandering back up to the Citadel proper in search of Ignis and food. Gladio is damn grateful, because the longer that he stands under the hot water, the more aroused he can feel himself becoming. Gladio takes himself in his hand and groans, leaning his left arm and his forehead against the old black tile as he works his aching cock over with his right. And this time, he lets himself think. 

He thinks about their time at the beach, __________’s creamy skin in the swimsuit he’d bought her, how joyous she’d looked while playing in the water, the sun on her wet hair and her chubby cheeks ruddy with sun exposure. The way her thick thighs jiggled when she walked, pocked with cellulite but oh-so-soft looking. Gladio thinks of them camping at the haven, sleepy lazy mornings with them nestled against each other for warmth and the feel of her curvy, thick body against his. Gladio thinks about her in the workout clothes he’d gotten her for Christmas—he'd fallen off the damn treadmill, and _oh my gods_ _I’m an idiot,_ he thinks. 

It’s like a slow blossoming flower that only blooms once a year under the full moon. It’s the aftertaste of a dessert that’s complex in so many flavors, you can’t taste them all until five minutes after you’ve swallowed. There’s the thought he’d had over spring break-- _She could be the only other person left in the world, and I would survive._

At the time, he’d beat back the thought like he beats his prince into the dirt at practice. But now, Gladio lifts that thought from its coffin and cradles it like a babe, embracing it as he groans under in the shower, right hand stroking his thick cock long and slow. What would _her_ hands feel like on him? What would it be like to kiss her—to taste those full, nervous lips? To hold her and make her _his_ , in his bed, knowing that he’d be the first to bring her to the height of pleasure? What noises would she make for him—soft, quiet gasps; or would she scream in ecstasy, overwhelmed in her first time, begging Gladio for more, more— _It feels so good,_ _Gladio_ _,_ he can hear in her voice. _Fuck me, please, I’ve been in love with you for so long..._

Gladio thinks of her easy affection, how she doesn’t shy away from his hugs or his words; how she doesn’t take advantage of him because of his social standing or his last name; she’s there because she wants to be, because out of all the odds, despite their differences, they fit like puzzle pieces and Gladio has never known a friend quite like __________. 

He _does_ want to kiss her, he finally realizes—and that’s when he comes, his large body shuddering out his release, painting the shower tile and dripping down to mix with the hot water inside of the drain. Gladio moans brokenly, pumping his shaft until there’s nothing left, milking himself for all that he’s worth until he’s boneless and sated. He stands there for a minute in the overstimulated aftermath, feeling hot tears gather at the corners of his eyes. He knows he’s got to break it off with Elena—it's not fair to keep stringing her along. He’s gotta tell her that he’s in love with someone else. 

And then, as Gladio gets feeling back into his body and he’s able to move and scrub himself clean, another thought invades his psyche: _what if she doesn’t like me back?_

If Gladio lost her friendship, it would be the worst thing he’d ever experience. He’d have to transfer schools. He’d have to block her on social media. He would have to figure out her schedule at the Citadel—assuming that his dad invites her back for more internships—and keep opposite hours with Noct. But maybe it’s better this way, he thinks—to keep these thoughts to himself. It’ll be the first time Gladiolus Amicitia pines after someone he thinks he can’t have, but maybe he needs to experience that at least once. Maybe this is just a crush, born from so many nights and days and classes and long conversations over bacon fries and King’s Knight and gym workouts—maybe by the end of the summer, he’ll get over it. Maybe Noct will keep him busy and Clarus will keep _her_ busy and maybe she’ll go steady with Mel and Gladio will be able to move on. 

Or maybe, just _maybe_ , he’s legitimately fucked, and maybe he’s missed his chance. 

_Maybe I should’ve kissed her at that house party—maybe I should’ve kissed her over spring break._ He sighs as he finishes his shower and grabs one of the communal fluffy towels from the shelf on the wall, knotting it around himself. He pads to the lockers and grabs his bag, digging for his phone. He shoots a quick message to Elena telling her to call him whenever she can, and then he swallows his feelings and puts on a face, snapping a few juicy selfies and mirror shots for his fitness blog. 

_______ 

A week later, Gladio wanders into the sprawling Citadel library on his day off to see if they have the latest installment in a book series he’s reading. He meanders to the back rows where the fiction is and turns a corner to the historical romance section, only to see ________ curled up in an old brown armchair. She’s in leggings and an IU hoodie, clicking away on her laptop, ____ eyes focused behind blue glasses. Gladio coughs and pushes down his blush, moving right beside the leather chair to sit on the arm as he looks for his book. 

“Well hi,” she says. 

“Hey yourself,” says Gladio. He turns halfway, meeting her bright gaze, feeling warm under her attention. “It’s Sunday, don’t tell me my dad is making you work?” 

___________ smiles softly and shakes her head. “Nah, I don’t go in again until Tuesday.” 

“So whatcha doin’?” 

She turns her computer, and Gladio can see the _IU_ portal up on the screen. “Registering for classes. I’ve been emailing my adviser all weekend about it.” 

“Ah shit, I better get on that,” Gladio lies. Gladio’s been on it for _days_. They have the same adviser, and in no certain words, he’d emailed her and told her that he’d accept nothing less than to have every single class with ________. He’s not one to throw his name or status around often, but this is where it counts. As soon as __________ picks her classes, Gladio’s supposed to get an automated email, telling him what classes he should register for. 

“I think I’ve narrowed it down—Political Data Analysis; Lucian Public Policy, Environmental Politics; Law and Society; Morality, Conflict, and War; and Intro to Public Administration.” She sighs. “It’s gonna be a doozy.” 

“Yeah no kiddin’,” says Gladio as his phone dings. He reaches into his jeans pocket and draws out his phone—sure enough, there’s the email with the list of class names, numbers, and the professor for each one. Gladio opens up the IU app and logs into the portal to register for those same classes. It only takes a few minutes and then he’s in, after he double-checks with the email he’d received. 

__________ sighs and logs out of the site, putting her computer into rest mode as she looks back up at Gladio. “What are you doing here, anyway?” 

“Oh, uh,” says Gladio, making sure everything is correct before he hits _submit_. “Lookin’ for a book.” 

“Oh, is the fourth book of _The General and the Lady_ series out?” 

Gladio lifts an eyebrow. “You remembered?” Elena hadn’t remembered—but then again, Gladio supposes, he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. She’d been nice, but ultimately, not for him. At least he did the right thing and met her at the Ebony Roasters downtown to end things in person. She’d sniffled a little, but admitted that feelings had been kinda mutual, so there was no harm, no foul. Gladio’s fine with being friends. 

“Well yeah, it’s all you talked about for a while after you finished the third one.” She reaches between her thigh and the chair and draws out the new hardcover. “Here, I saw it and was keeping it warm for you.” 

Gladio blinks, reaching to take the new hardcover installment of the historical romance series he’s been invested in for two years now. He purposefully folds his fingers over hers, letting them linger for a few long seconds. “Thank you,” he says. 

She beams up at him. “Of course. What are friends for?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been gone a long time  
> I kinda lost my way, I can't find it  
> And I caught a short ride  
> To the grave and back this season  
> I can try to get by  
> But every time I start to panic  
> I'm a little bit shy  
> A bit strange and a little bit manic
> 
> "Wishing Well", blink-182

When Gladio gets to the Citadel gym on Friday afternoon, __________ is already there, going hard on the elliptical machine, earbud wires and hair and jiggly body moving with concentrated effort. Gladio thinks she must have the resistance up high because she’s going slower than he’s observed in a while. He drops his gym duffle on the bench next to the weight equipment and slips out of his hoodie, leaving him just in gym shorts and his socks and sneakers. 

Conveniently, the weights are just across from the row of ellipticals and treadmills. Gladio lazily wraps tape around his hands and tries not to look at his best friend in leggings and a sports bra. He moves to the bench, grabbing a bar and various disks to start off with—150 seems like a good starting point, he thinks. He’d had a good, focused session with Noctis, and was actually able to get the prince to master a couple of techniques they’ve been working on for a while. Gladio does feel really bad about getting so distracted lately—maybe the crush is ebbing, a little. Maybe now that he’s confronted it, he can analyze it critically and... ignore it. 

He looks back up at _________, pudgy hands wrapped around the handles of the elliptical, quaking with effort. Her face is red, and her exposed skin is slicked with sweat. She’s mouthing the words to whatever song is blaring through her headphones, and—and she’s looking directly at him with those soft eyes. She’s not even wearing her glasses, so Gladio can get a full unobstructed view of her cute face. She tilts her head and smiles softly at him, swallowing hard and licking her lips. 

Gladio can’t ignore it. 

He feels a surge of heat fluttering deep within his belly and it shoots down to his toes. All he can do is smile back, and he means to turn away and get back to his weight reps; but she takes one earbud out of her ears and slows her legs even more, looping the one wired bud around her sweaty neck. 

“Gladio,” she says, sadly. 

Something’s wrong. 

Gladio continues to wrap white tape around his hands as he slides up to the exercise machine. “You’re sad.” 

___________ chokes out a laugh and shakes her head. “I really am a bad liar.” 

“Thought we’d established that already,” Gladio says. “What’s wrong? The council wring you a new one and call you a dumb kid?” 

She grins at that and shakes her head. “No, actually, I’m pretty sure your dad thinks I’m smarter than all the rest of them.” 

“You probably are, sweetheart.” 

__________ sighs and looks away. “Mel’s dad is getting transferred to Accordo.” 

Gladio’s eyes widen. “They’re moving to another country?” 

She nods. “Yeah. We met today when your dad let me take a lunch break. That’s just...so far away, and he’s having to transfer schools, so like...a long-distance thing wouldn’t have worked well, I think. It’s not like I have the money to take a cruise across the sea once a month to visit.” 

“Was he upset about it too?” 

She nods. “I mean, yeah. He was sad. We both cried a little.” 

“He kiss you?” 

___________ blinks up at him and comes to a stop on the elliptical. “I mean yeah, but it wasn’t the first time.” 

Something big and ugly and green claws its way from Gladio’s brain and wraps itself around his tender heart. “Oh, I didn’t think you guys were that serious.” 

___________ blushes a little. “I mean, it was a little serious—or getting there, anyway.” 

Gladio wants to ask how far they went, but then again, most of him doesn’t want to know. He switches gears. “I’m really sorry, though. I know he was like, your first boyfriend.” 

__________ nods. “I guess you could say that. But these things happen, I guess. I’ll get over it eventually.” She sniffs a little. “Thanks, Gladio. Uh. You wanna go out later? Or do you have plans with Elena?” 

Gladio blinks. “Did I not tell you?” 

She tilts her head. “Huh?” 

“I broke up with her. Like a week ago.” 

“Oh, shit...no? What happened?” 

Gladio shrugs. “I just...there wasn’t anything there.” 

“Oh, Gladio. I’m sorry.” 

And isn’t that like __________, to be concerned for him even when she’s visibly more upset than he is? He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. It was a little mutual. I wasn’t giving her what she wanted.” 

__________ blinks. “That’s hard to imagine.” 

Gladio laughs. “You’d be surprised.” He steps away from the machine. “Kenny Crow’s after I finish my weights?” 

__________ round face splits into a grin that lights up the gym. “Of course.” 

_______ 

At the beginning of August, Gladio finds himself escorting Iris out on a shopping trip, his younger sister just begging him for some one-on-one time. And Gladio likes being a big brother, even though he’s upwards of seven years older than Iris. The little girl is newly twelve years old, but she still hasn’t hit a growth spurt yet, something that Gladio never gets tired of teasing her about. 

He’s already carrying multiple shopping bags full of more designer clothes and jewelry than any one pre-teen should own, but Iris has daddy’s credit card and is determined to purchase all of the new fall fashions she’d seen in _Teen Vogue_. Gladio doesn’t want to fight with his sister right now, so he juggles the Jimmy Choos and the Gucci and the Balenciaga without complaint. 

“Hey,” he says, coming to a stop in front of a mid-tier jewelry store. “Iris, hold up!” 

“What is it, Gladdy?” The gangly little girl turns on her booted heel and bounces up to him, Moogle backpack flailing wildly as she moves. She presses her nose to the glass. “Oooooh, pretty! Yes, Gladdy, let’s go in here!” 

“Cool,” says Gladio, opening the door. 

He lets his sister bounce in ahead of him and she goes straight for the peridot pieces—the August birthstone, an homage to her years-long crush on the prince. But Gladio shuffles over to the more modest charm bracelets he’d seen in the window. 

“Can I help you?” 

Gladio blinks up at the petite saleswoman. He grins wide and revels in her blush. “Yeah, uh. Wanted to see that bracelet there. The one with the gladiolus flowers.” It always feels funny to say his namesake out loud. He drops the bags and sits in the chair on the other side of the counter. The woman slips the key from around her wrist and opens the back of the glass, reaching in to draw out the bracelet in question. She places it on a velvet-lined tray and slides it across. 

Gladio gently lifts the bracelet and observes the charm—it’s round and framed in a deep blush pink color, with silver gladiolus flowers engraved on the front; on the back is the inscription _Gladiolus: Stand proudly in your strength and integrity_. Gladio sniffs back a stray tear. His name means so much to him, and to who he is, in relation to his beloved prince; he was raised to be strong for Noctis, to be the shoulder for Noctis when the prince and future king can’t bear the weight of the world. And he hopes—he _hopes_ —his name means something to _________, too. 

“It’s a beautiful bracelet,” the saleswoman offers, softly, sensing his emotion. “It’s from our new flower collection. We’ve been selling so many lately. They make great anniversary gifts, or perhaps...” 

But Gladio’s already sold. “I’ll take it,” he says, looking back up at her. “Sorry, I...” 

“Don’t cry!” She panics. “Is there anything I can do...?” 

“No, sorry,” says Gladio, wiping his eyes, feeling a little embarrassed. “It’s just...for a really good friend. Uh. Can you gift wrap it, please?” 

“Of course,” says the saleswoman. “Would you like to see the matching necklace?” 

Gladio’s mouth is dry. “Yeah.” 

_________ 

It’s a week until classes begin, and Gladio’s determined to get moved in on the first day possible at Insomnia University. Now that he’s a sophomore, he and Sol are free to choose any other dorm they want, and they’d both decided on Vesper Villa, another small co-ed dorm on the outskirts of the university. They’re on the fifth floor, and this time, there’s elevator access. The girls’ fourth floor is right underneath them. The third floor is the community space like their freshman residence hall—study rooms, tv, laundry room, kitchen, and etc.; with more boys on the second floor, and girls again on the first. 

____________’s phone rings as she’s packing her final bags and plastic containers. She swipes it, grinning as Gladio’s voice comes through. 

“Yo, you ready?” he says. “I just finished moving in my stuff in.” 

“Yeah, I’m just about there,” she says, rolling her eyes at her mother, who’s giving her knowing looks from the doorway. “Thanks again for coming to get me.” 

“Of course!” Gladio says happily. He’s having trouble denying the butterflies in his stomach. The gift-wrapped bracelet and necklace sit in the front seat of his pickup truck, eagerly awaiting to be unwrapped. Gladio looks at the modest house for several long minutes until the door opens and his best friend appears, bags and plastic totes in tow. Gladio jumps out of the driver’s seat and rushes to help her. 

“Phew!” she says, wiping the sweat from under her glasses, putting her hands on her hips as she surveys the Tetris board in the back of Gladio’s truck. She looks back up at him with a smile. “Sophomore year already, huh?” 

“Oh, you two are growing up _so_ fast!” Mrs. __________ beams at her daughter, then at the eldest Amicitia. “Gladiolus, dear, I can’t thank you enough for helping _________ move back in the dorms. With how work has been lately, I just haven’t had much time off to help her with university...” 

Gladio waves his hand. “It’s my pleasure, _________. She’s practically family at this point.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Gladio feels himself grow warm from the inside out, and not just from the effort of packing suitcases into his truck. He looks down at _________, flushed and sweaty, in and old, worn high school club t-shirt and shorts. _Family_. She _is_ his family, and for someone as sworn to duty and bonds as Gladio, the revelation is...a lot to take in. 

“And _do_ thank your father, so very much. I was bragging all summer! My baby girl, an intern with the _royal shield_ himself, assisting our noble king...” 

“Mom, it wasn’t that big of a deal,” __________ says, a little embarrassed. “It was honestly just a lot of like, clerical work and transcribing...” 

“Oh, stop downplaying yourself!” Mrs. _________ laughs, hugging her daughter. “I’m so, so proud of you. Freshman year over already.” 

“Ugh mom okay, we gotta get going!” 

The jovial Mrs. _________ releases her daughter and slides over to Gladio, squeezing him tight. “Thank you for everything you do for her,” she says, looking at him through misty eyes. 

Gladio can see the exhaustion behind her kind green eyes, the premature crow’s feet, the skin that looks older than it actually is. His heart breaks. “Of course,” he says, nodding. He looks back up to _________. “Ready to go?” 

After several more _Yes, mom, okay, okay_ s, Mrs. _________ returns to the house to begin getting ready for her shift, waving off the two friends and blowing multiple kisses. 

“I can’t believe the summer went by so fast,” she says, taking off her glasses and wiping her face. “Ugh. I need another shower.” 

Gladio grins big. “Can’t believe it either.” He opens his door and climbs in, inviting __________ to do the same, smirking to himself as he eyes her gift. 

She bounds around the truck and flings open the door, stopping as she sees the present on the front seat. “What’s this?” 

“Oh, just a little, uh, happy _successful internship with my grumpy old dad_ gift,” Gladio chuckles. “And happy sophomore year, I guess. And happy almost one year of being friends.” Gladio watches her chubby cheeks flush pink as she lifts the gift into her lap and shuts the door. 

“You don’t have to do this,” she mumbles. 

“But I wanted to. Besides, Iris made me follow her around downtown on one of her big shopping sprees. I had to buy _something_ to alleviate the boredom.” 

___________ laughs and shakes her head, untying the ribbon and flinging out the tissue paper. “Well, I gotta admit. Your dad is pretty cool. And the king? Even cooler. I really enjoyed learning from them.” 

Gladio smiles. “From the way dad talked, I thought he was about to adopt you!” 

_________ laughs. “Good luck to him. He’d have a hard time fighting my mom, king’s shield or no.” She pulls out one of the sleek black boxes and opens the clamshell hinge, gasping at the silver bangle within. “Oh, Gladio, it’s...” She lifts it and looks closely at the charm, flipping it over on both sides. “It’s...it’s _you_.” 

“A little selfish, I admit, but...” Gladio shrugs. “Thought it was pretty anyway.” 

_________ glances up at him through moist eyes. “It means a lot. _You_ mean a lot.” She looks back down at the bangle, turning it over and over. “But, I’m afraid my hand is too wide to...” 

“No,” says Gladio, reaching over. He plucks the bracelet from her hands and rips off the price tag, and pulls the bangle apart. “See, here at the bottom, it’s made to slide out wider.” He fits it over her hand and revels in the warmth of her skin. Once it’s around her wrist, he applies pressure to both sides, sliding it closed. “There. Perfect fit.” 

Some part of _________’s brain wants her to say _You sure are_ , but she swallows that down and goes for the second box. “Oh, it’s a necklace! With the same gladiolus charm...” 

“Couldn’t _not_ get the set,” Gladio says softly. He reaches out his hand. “Here, lemme put it on you.” 

_________ holds up her hair and tries to steady her breathing as Gladio loops the necklace around her front and lays it on the back of her neck. She feels him clasp it, and then she drops her hair, fingers flying to where it’s sitting just below the collar of her t-shirt. “Gladio, I...” 

“I told you, don’t mention it,” Gladio says, starting the engine and reaching for the radio. “Okay, you sure you got everything?” 

“I think so. And if not, mom can always bring it after work tomorrow.” 

“Or I could drive you back,” Gladio teases, peeling away from the curb. “C’mon, I like having girls in my truck. It’s not a bother.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“Are you ever gonna grow out of that?” Gladio laughs. “So...bacon fries after we unload?” 

“Ugh, I gotta get books first. But yes.” 

Gladio nods. “It’s a date.” 

______ 

“Together again,” says Libra as she flops on her bed. Vesper Villa is a much nicer dorm than the freshman Moogle Manor, but it still has an old, weathered charm to it. “And right under the guys, huh? What a crazy coincidence.” 

__________ finishes tucking in her freshly-washed sheets around the twin mattress and throws her blanket and comforter on top. It’s the Friday before classes begin, and she’s already started on some of the prerequisite reading for her international relations classes; her books and computer are open, scattered across her desk. This room is larger than the one they’d had as freshmen, and Libra has taken the opportunity to decorate and flaunt her preppy interior design skills. 

“You know what else is a coincidence,” __________ says as she sits at her desk. “Gladio and I have the _exact_ same schedule. Like. All six classes. Isn’t that wild?” 

Libra sighs dramatically and shakes her head. “Now that what’s-his-name moved, are you finally going to ask Gladio out?” 

_________ barks out a laugh. “You’re still on that, huh? And his name was Mel. And he was my first boyfriend, so try to be a little nicer about it.” 

Libra waves her hand. “Girl, please. I mean he was kinda cute or whatever, but...c’mon. _Gladio_.” 

“Look, if you like him so much, _you_ ask him out.” 

“I already did.” 

___________ peers at her roommate from around the desk. “Wait, what?” 

“Yeah. Granger cheated on me. I found out like a week ago.” 

“Oh, Libra, I’m...I’m so sorry. What an asshole. Do you want me to go sit on him?” 

Libra snorts. “No, it’s...it’s fine. Um, so obviously I broke up with him immediately when I found out. And well...the day after that, I got really drunk, and I texted Gladio, and I said a bunch of dumb shit, like how he was so hot and I wanted his dick...but he let me down so gently, I wasn’t even mad.” 

“So _that’s_ why you two were like, super awkward on moving day.” 

Libra grimaces. “Not my best moment, I admit.” 

“Damn, and he said no? To _you_?” __________ looks her roommate up and down. “If Gladio told you no, then what in the world makes you think I have a snowball’s chance in hell?” 

“Um, are we forgetting about how he basically bought you jewelry _with his name on it_?” 

“Well, but, that’s just like a coincidence though! That’s like... if you bought me something with the libra horoscope sign. A gladiolus _is_ a flower, y’know. And it does have meaning, obviously, in like, flower language or whatever. So the fact that it’s also his name is just, random.” 

“I am _literally_ about to smack you over the head,” says Libra, flopping back on her bed. “But I’m too heartbroken, so I’ll let your obliviousness slide once more.” 

“I really am sorry. What a dick move, though. I can’t believe Granger did that to you.” 

Libra shrugs. “It’s fine. I’ll go hook up with someone to ease the pain, heh.” 

“Well, from what I hear, Sol is newly single.” 

Libra shoots up. “The baseball player? Gladio’s roomie?” 

“Yup.” 

“Oh shit. Do you really think I should try?” 

“I mean, it’s worth a shot. Gladio said the summer wasn’t really fun for him at all.” 

“I know what you mean,” Libra agrees. “I had to intern with my dad at his boring old corporate job. While _you_ got to cozy up with the fuckin’ _king_. Ugh. Bitch.” 

__________ laughs and shrugs. “It’s not my fault that my best friend’s dad is the king’s personal bodyguard and head of the royal council.” 

“Rub salt in the wound, why don’t you!” Libra groans. A pause, then, “You really think Sol would like me?” 

“Just go out for coffee or something. Or, hey! We could all go to the coffee shop. A big roommate date. No pressure. But just to see if you guys vibe or whatever.” 

“I might call you a matchmaking genius,” says Libra, “if you weren’t so clueless about your own love life.” 

“Oh fuck off!” 

Libra just laughs and launches a decorative pillow at her roommate’s head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bracelet inspired by Alex + Ani's actual gladiolus charm bracelet, which I have. (Sadly, there is no matching necklace irl.)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio wants to kill whatever’s made her so upset. He’s only ever felt this way once before, when Noctis was attacked by the Niffs as a child. He leans down low and presses his forehead against hers. “There’s my best friend,” he whispers softly. “Please tell me what’s wrong?” 
> 
> A hard sniff, followed by a choke and some coughing as she attempts to catch her breath, and then, “I’m going to have to drop out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, all; my husband is in the throes of COVID-19 and I'm quarantined until 2/25 so my schedule is WAY off and my mental health is poop. ;-;

The third week of school, when ________ doesn’t show up for Environmental Politics at 9:45 am, Gladio knows something is wrong. He waits until the last possible minute, but when class starts, he’s forced inside of the room by the guilt-laden look of the kindly old professor. Her chair is empty for Lucian Public Policy at 11, Political Data Analysis at 1:15, and even Law and Society at 2:45. Gladio tries to text her in between classes, and he even calls her when he gets takeout from the cafeteria, but there’s no luck. He’d taken enough notes so that she’d be caught up—Gladio knows her scholarship is dependent on a certain GPA, and __________ was in class last semester during hell or high water. He can count on one hand the times she missed class the entire year, all twelve classes combined—either she’s really, deathly ill, which makes him panic and wonder if he needs to ask Noctis to brew up some potions; or she’s had some sort of emergency she’s not telling him about. 

Either way, he’s worried, and as soon as class lets out ten till four, he’s sprinting across campus back to Vesper Villa, not even patient enough to take the elevator. He takes the stairs two at a time until he’s on the fourth floor and beating down the door to room 410. 

There’s no answer for several seconds, but Gladio hears shuffling and hushed voices from within. He presses his ear to the door and he definitely hears Libra, but is _________ inside too? He’s not sure. His heart is pounding, body a little sore from running across campus and up stairs with a heavy backpack on his back. He knocks again, more gently this time, wiping the sweat from his brow. His long hair is coming out of its bun; he’s in the process of untangling the hair tie from his dark strands when the door _finally_ opens to reveal a red-eyed Libra in a sweatshirt and leggings. 

“Hey Gladio,” she whispers, wiping her eyes and sniffing. 

“Where’s ___________? She won’t answer my calls, my texts—she wasn’t in class today, it’s not like her...” 

Libra jerks her head back towards the dimly-lit dorm room. “Oh, she’s physically fine...mostly. She hasn’t moved from the bed all day.” 

“Can I...” Gladio’s mouth feels so, so dry. “Can I see her?” 

Libra sighs. “Not sure you’ll get much more out of her than I did.” 

“Did you make it to class today?” Gladio asks gently, scooting inside as Libra opens up the door a little wider. 

Libra nods, shutting the door behind him. “Yeah, but I was running back here in between almost every class. I mean she’s barely eaten, and she’s been crying, holding her phone...” The petite blonde shakes her head and shrugs. “But you’re her best friend. I’m sure she’ll talk to you.” 

Gladio nods and lets his backpack thud to the floor, and he gingerly approaches the old wooden twin and the covered-up lump resting atop the mattress. 

“Hey, _________,” he says gently, coming up to kneel at the head of the bed, where her mop of pretty ______ hair is just barely visible. He reaches out to finger the soft strands, and a sob emanates from under the covers. “Sweetheart, talk to me. You got me fucked up. I’ve been so worried about you. You missed all of class today. Everyone missed you. Me most of all.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” comes a pitiful whine from beneath the blankets. 

Gladio blinks. “What’s that mean? _Of course_ it matters. C’mon, it’s not good for you to be cooped up like that, making yourself all hot and gross. I wanna look at you.” Gladio swallows hard. It’s becoming more and more evident to him just how _much_ he likes looking at ___________ these days. 

A distinct headshake, followed by more sniffling. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not going to be around much longer anyway.” 

Gladio sighs. “Okay, buddy. What the actual fuck are you talking about?” 

“And everyone says _I’m_ dramatic,” Libra huffs, approaching the bed and sitting directly on her roommate’s feet. 

“Ow.” 

“Tell us what’s wrong!” 

Gladio rolls his eyes at the other girl. “I’m gonna peel back the covers now baby, okay?” he coos softly. The pet name rolls from his tongue so naturally, he almost doesn’t realize he’s said it until it’s already hanging in the air between them. 

Libra lifts an eyebrow and smirks, but Gladio doesn’t look. He takes the edges of the top sheet and comforter and peels them down around ___________’s shoulders, then brushes her hair away from her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. She’s not even wearing her glasses, and her face is all puffy and swollen and red, chubby cheeks tear-stained and brow furrowed tightly in a distressed grimace. 

Gladio wants to kill whatever’s made her so upset. He’s only ever felt this way once before, when Noctis was attacked by the Niffs as a child. He leans down low and presses his forehead against hers. “There’s my best friend,” he whispers softly. “Please tell me what’s wrong?” 

A hard sniff, followed by a choke and some coughing as she attempts to catch her breath, and then, “I’m going to have to drop out.” 

Gladio reels back. “What? But why? Your scholarship was approved for another year, wasn’t it? Did something go fucky with the paperwork? I can have my dad look into it, or Ignis, even--” 

“No,” ________ shakes her head and gulps hard. “It’s not—it's not the scholarship. It's, uh. The factory my mom works for...they...they downsized and outsourced a lot of jobs out of Lucis. She was one of the ones that got cut.” 

Gladio just sits there, dumbfounded. He whips his head to Libra, who’s got her mouth open in shock. 

“Holy shit,” she says. 

“Yeah, holy shit,” ________ echoes, bitterly. “So I’m going to have to drop out and find a job so that we can pay our bills. We might even have to move—we only rent the house, we don’t even own it, and we can’t afford to be behind on payments or our landlady will evict us...” She buries her face in her pillow. “My mom called me this morning and told me,” she sobs, muffled. “She told me not to worry, that she’d find something soon, but...I’m not so sure. She’s had this job for so long. She didn’t get to go to college, I’m not sure what else she could do...we barely made rent as it was, I worked in high school to help pay for some of my own stuff, and managed to keep my grades up enough to apply for the scholarship that let me attend here...” More muffled sobs escape __________’s throat as she shakes her head into her pillow as Gladiolus and Libra look on helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost...we’re so alone here, all of our family is still outside of the Wall...” 

“You’re not alone,” Gladio interjects, trying to stop his heart from breaking any more than it already is. He’s always been aware of their class difference, but seeing her here, now, crying about her mom’s unemployment and worrying about being _homeless_...it’s something he’s not sure he can take. “You’re not alone, you hear me? You have me. You’ll always have me. You’re not going to drop out.” 

“I have to, Gladio,” she whines again. “I have to go to work. I have to do _something_. I can’t keep having fun with you here while my mom struggles...” 

Gladio’s always forming a plan in his grief-addled brain, but he’s hesitant to tell __________, because while she’s warmed up to the idea of being treated to bacon fries and coffee shop dates, he’s not sure that she’d accept him throwing around his last name just to find her mother employment. “It’s past the first of the month. Is your rent paid already?” 

___________ nods her head. “Okay, so we’ve got a couple of weeks. Can you listen to me? Will you let me help? Please, __________, you’re my best friend.” _And I think I love you_ , are the unspoken words, but Gladio doesn’t think she can handle that revelation in her current state, so he swallows it down yet again. 

It takes several more minutes of coaxing, but __________ finally turns back over and even sits up in bed, facing Libra. Gladio wedges himself onto the tiny twin mattress and wraps her in his arms, squeezing her tightly. He can’t help but get warm as she nuzzles into his chest and sighs, like he’s easing away all her stress. He wants to be this for her—be her rock, her relief, her strength when she has none. It melts his heart to know that she trusts him this much, and he doesn’t want to do anything to break that trust, _ever_. And if means keeping his affection a secret, then, so be it. If she needs a friend, he can be that. She’s never asked anything more from him. 

“Okay,” she says, finally, tired and worn out from being upset for six hours. “Thanks, Gladio, I...I’m sorry I made you worry.” She sniffs, wiping her face, looking at a blurry Libra on the foot of her bed. “You too, Libra. I’m so sorry. Thanks for checking on me.” 

“No sweat, girl,” Libra says softly. “Just try to talk to me next time, all right? I was worried sick, I could barely focus. Good thing I took notes and the professors upload all their power points to _SchoolPortal._ ” 

They all laugh a little at Libra’s quip, and then Gladio pats __________’s shoulder. 

“You ready to listen to me?” he asks. 

_____________ nods. “Yes.” 

“Don’t drop out. Please. Or at least...” he thinks. “Wait a month. If your mom doesn’t find a new job within a month, I’ll help you both find a job. But you gotta promise to stay in school and focus on your work for now, okay?” 

_____________ looks up at Gladio with wide, pleading eyes. “Are you asking me to trust you?” 

Gladio nods. “I am. Do you trust me?” 

“Yes, but...how do you know everything will work out?” 

Gladio shakes his head. “I don’t. But I also don’t want you making rash descisions that you can’t come back from. Your mom still has the house for now, right?” 

“Right.” 

“And food?” 

____________ shrugs. “I mean, I guess? I hope so?” 

“Will you let me help with groceries this week?” 

“Gladio, I...I don’t want to be a charity case...” 

“Then let me,” Libra offers. “Seriously, girl. You name it, I’ll write a check to your mom and drop it in the mail tomorrow. C’mon, you’ve been such a good roomie, and a good friend I never expected to make.” 

____________ smiles and shakes her head. “Me? The awkward fat geeky girl?” 

“I think you mean, the pretty awesome cute girl,” Libra says. “Even if I still don’t understand King’s Knight.” 

“Oh c’mon, it’s the best!” Gladio exclaims. He feels his best friend’s chubby body shake with amusement in his arms, and he swears he’ll never forget the feeling. 

She nods at her roommate, finally, though her voice is small. “If you really want to, Libra.” 

“I do. Please. Let me help.” She shoots a look at Gladio. 

Gladio nods in return, a sealing of their unspoken bond to protect this quiet, special girl. “Okay, so. Class as usual the rest of this week, okay?” 

___________ nods. “Okay. Um. Do yu have today’s notes, or...” 

“Of course. What do you say we order pizza, and I’ll stay up here and walk you through everything that happened today?” 

___________ beams up at him, eyes full of gratitude. “I’d really love that. Thank you, Gladio.” 

Libra grins. “Should I text Sol so we can have a roommate study party?” 

Gladio smiles. “I think that’s a great idea.” He digs in his shorts for his phone. “Pizza’s on me. What does everyone want?” 

___________ 

When Gladio drive to the Citadel after class for training later that week, he makes sure to get there early enough to catch Clarus in his office. His dad is sitting at his desk, pouring over some papers, reading spectacles perched on his nose. Gladio knocks on the half-open door and coughs. 

Clarus glances up. “Gladio, son. Good evening. You’re here for training, then?” 

He nods, slipping into the warm, cozy office. He glances around—it hasn’t changed much in the almost two decades he’s been privy to the interior. Gladio lowers himself in one of the cozy armchairs on the other side of his dad’s desk and sighs. 

“Dad,” he says. “I need help.” 

Clarus lowers the council reports he’s reviewing and slips off his bifocals. “What’s wrong?” 

“Well, it’s not—not help for me. It’s for my friend.” 

Clarus nods. “Your friends are always welcome in our home, Gladiolus. What can we do?” 

“It’s __________,” Gladio murmurs. 

Clarus’ eyes grow wide. “What happened? Such a sweet, smart girl...I cannot wait to have her work with me again.” 

“Well, it’s not _her_ , exactly,” Gladio says. “It’s her mom. She, uh. She lost her job, because the factory where she works downsized, and they’re only renting the house that they live in...” Gladio swallows hard. “Her roommate already helped them with groceries for this week. A couple of days ago, __________ missed a whole day of classes because she was in bed crying. She didn’t even respond to any of my messages until I went to see her in person.” Gladio wipes his eyes where moisture has started to pool at the corners. “She was convinced that she was gonna have to drop out and get a job to help support them...” 

Clarus nods knowingly. “You care about this girl a great deal, son. More than almost any one else you’ve ever brought home.” 

“Second only to Noctis, probably,” Gladio says, gripping the armrests in his fists. “Please, dad. Is there anything that her mom could do here? Something? You’ve met her, you know how much of a hard worker she is...” 

Clarus rubs his chin and thinks for a moment. “Well,” he says. “The Urban Housing Department could use a new secretary...” 

Gladio’s eyes widen. “Yeah? You mean it? It’ll pay a living wage?” 

Clarus nods. “I’ll make sure of it. Do you have their house number? I’ll call Mrs. __________ in for an interview right now.” 

Gladio clutches his heart and takes a deep breath. “Thanks, dad. I...” 

“You love this girl, yes?” 

Gladio whips his head up to stare at his father. “Are you mad?” 

“Well, I do remember saying ‘No distractions.’ However, your grades from last year proved you can have both a social life and keep up a GPA befitting the noble Amictia name.” 

“She doesn’t...we’re not dating, though,” Gladio says, a little sadly. 

“Oh?” Clarus tilts his head. “Is she not interested in you?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t...think so? She’s never given me any indication that she is. She’s a really good friend—my best friend, if I’m being honest. I don’t want to scare her away.” 

Clarus nods. “Your status might also be a deterrent.” 

Gladio grits his teeth. “I don’t care about that. I’d renounce everything to be with her if that’s all it took.” 

Clarus chuckles and holds up his hand. “Easy, son. No need for dramatics. I’d have nothing against you publicly dating Miss __________, especially since she’s so ambitious in politics and international relations. That’s a good place for the wife of the future shield to be in.” He winks. 

Gladio feels himself blush. “Yeah, well. If there’s any more developments, I’ll let you know.” He clears his throat. “Thanks Dad.” He pulls out his phone and brings up his message thread, clicking on his dad’s name and typing in ___________’s home number. “I just sent you their house phone.” 

Clarus reaches for his own phone at the far end of the desk. “Great. I’ll give Mrs. ___________ a call.” He nods. “You should get downstairs. Don’t want to keep his Highness waiting.” 

Gladio laughs. “I think you have that reversed, dad.” He laughs. “Usually, _I_ have to go across town and beat down the door to Noct’s apartment.” He rises and rounds the desk, bending down to hug his father and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for helping. Seriously. It means a lot.” 

“I can tell,” says Clarus softly, cupping Gladio’s cheek. “Don’t worry son. We’ll get them taken care of.” 

When Gladio gets back to campus at almost ten pm, he opens his door to find ___________ in his room, curled up on his bed with their small _Law and Society and_ _You_ textbook in hand. Sol is at his desk with his back turned, headphones on and smashing away at Call of Duty on his gaming PC. 

Gladio’s stomach does a somersault at seeing her on his bed. She’s sat on it a hundred times this year already, but the intimacy of it still leaves him reeling, especially now that he’s come more to terms with his feelings about his cute, chubby friend. 

She looks up. “Gladio, hey! You’re back.” 

“You movin’ in or what?” He teases, dropping his duffle and kneeling to drag out the dirty clothes he’d worn during training, throwing them into the hamper by his side of the closet. 

“Sorry. Libra is at a sorority thing and I did most of my homework in my room alone, but I missed you and just wanted to wait for you here.” 

Gladio grins, her words twisting around his heart and squeezing. _I missed you_. “You know I don’t mind if Sol doesn’t.” 

__________ giggles. “Oh he’s been gaming for like, over an hour now.” She lowers her book and slips an index card to mark her page. 

Gladio kicks off his shoes and plops on the bed. “How was your afternoon?” 

“It was good. Didn’t do much. I went to the gym for like 45 minutes, just did some powerwalking on the treadmill and some of the weight machines.” 

“I’m so proud of you,” Gladio nods. 

“And got some to-go dinner from the caf. And did homework.” She pauses, looking away. “Uh, so. Some news, I think?” 

Gladio tries to keep a poker face. “Oh yeah?” 

“So my mom got a call from the Citadel.” 

Gladio raises an eyebrow. “For real?” 

____________ nods, finally meeting his gaze again. “Uh, yeah. It was your dad. He said there was an administrative assistant position open with the Department of Urban Housing.” 

Gladio grins. “Oh yeah? That’s awesome, buddy. Did she interview?” 

She nods. “Yeah, my mom said he wanted her in his office today. So she went, and was offered the job, and the pay is like, _twice_ that of what she was making at the factory!” Her eyes tear up and she takes off her glasses, wiping the tears. “Did you know about this?” 

Gladio swallows. He can’t lie. “I did, yeah. But I thought it’d be a happy surprise.” 

“But what if my mom isn’t good enough...” 

“Hey,” says Gladio. “Your mom will be great. C’mon, it’ll be in an office, and she’ll get to sit all day in a nice, cushy chair. I’ve met some of the ladies that work in there, they’re super nice. She’ll fit right in. And you can count on my dad, as head of the council, to protect her. She _will_ be good enough. I’m sure she’ll get trained in no time.” 

“I don’t know what to say. You’ve...you’ve really saved us, Gladio.” 

Gladio reaches out and draws her to him in an awkward hug that has him almost falling out of the bed, but he doesn’t care. She feels so _right_ in his arms. It was a no-brainer to set her mother up with a better, less laborious job to ensure that they could have a better life. Gladio wishes that he could’ve done more sooner to help her. Gladio wants to give her _everything_. 

“It’s no problem,” he whispers into her hair, inhaling the clean citrus scent of her cheap shampoo. 

“Thank you,” she whispers into his hoodie.

Gladio just grips her tight and listens to the thud of his heartbeat in sync with hers. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dammit.

Gladio had _really_ wanted to go out to Kenny Crow’s tonight, but Libra had insisted on bringing __________ along to a movie out with some of her sorority sisters, and Gladio knows it’s important for his best friend to get a little more out of her shell, especially around some of the more high-society girls on campus. Having a summer internship with his dad is already a big step in getting into the political world, and Gladio thinks that close relationships with the noble daughters of some of the most prominent families in Insomnia can only push his best friend to new opportunities and stronger connections. 

Still, he can’t help but wish they were just eating bacon fries and doing co-op King’s Knight raids. Gladio takes a long drag of his beer and surveys the crowded frat party Sol had invited him too. The roommate in question is currently crushing some of his baseball teammates at beer pong while half of the football team cheers him on. Gladio grins a little as he finishes the beer, crushing the can in his hand and tossing it into the nearly-overflowing garbage can a few feet away. 

Someone sidles up to his side—co-captain of the girls’ basketball team, maybe? Gladio’s not sure. He turns his head. 

“’Sup, Amicitia,” she says, jutting her chin at him. She’s nearly as tall as he is, with broad shoulders and short hair that’s shaved on the side. She offers him a red cup. “C’mon, it’s the good stuff. Graham just brought it in.” 

Gladio takes it, looking across to the kitchen to see multiple clear bottles being opened by a curly-haired guy with glasses. “Thanks,” he says. “You’re Astra, right?” 

“Charmed,” she laughs, knocking back some of the mystery alcohol. “We’ve only talked a little, but I see you at the games sometimes. Wanted to say thank you for supporting the Lady Monarchs.” 

“Gotta support the ladies,” Gladio says with a smile. 

Astra winks. “I know what you mean.” She scans the crowd, gaze lingering on several sorority girls giggling in the corner and looking in their direction. She whistles low. “Excuse me, big guy. Gonna go see if any of _those_ ladies need any support.” 

Gladio laughs and watches her red plaid shirt in retreat. “Good luck!” he calls. He gazes back down at the cup in his hand and chugs it, coughing a little as he swallows the last few drops. “Damn, she’s trying to kill me.” But the burn of the alcohol slowly fades to a sweet, pleasant aftertaste that leaves Gladio wanting more. He grips his cup and wanders to the kitchen, greeting several of his peers by name and asking for a refill. Graham, the bringer of the top-shelf liquor, obliges him happily. 

An hour later, Gladio finds himself barricaded in one of the tiny half-baths on the second floor of the Sigma Delta fraternity house. He hasn’t gotten this drunk in a _while_ , and he’s not feeling nauseous quite yet, but the lights and the thumping of the dubstep downstairs was getting to him. Here, at least, he can sit in relative silence and let his head clear. The lights of the bathroom are old and dim, and Gladio’s never been so thankful for dull vintage wiring. He digs his phone out of his pocket and smiles big and goofy when he sees a text message from __________. He awkwardly swipes at the screen and types a reply. 

_______ 

As they’re filing out of the lobby, ___________ feels the vibration of her phone in her pocket. She hopes Gladio found some way to entertain himself while she’s out with Libra and her gang. But knowing the big guy, she knows she doesn’t have to worry much. Gladio’s so good with people, and everyone _always_ wants him around. ___________ sighs, wishing she were more like her big, hunky best friend. She lags behind the group a little as she unlocks her phone and taps the notification from Gladio. 

_From_ _Gladio_ _, 9:37 PM:_ _helloooooooo_ _my_ _bessss_ _freindkdfh_ _what r u doinmdln_

___________ stares at the nearly-indecipherable message and laughs. Gladio’s only drunk-texted a couple of times, but he hasn’t been to a house party without her yet this year. She shakes her head, wishing she were around to keep him from going too crazy. 

“____________?” 

Libra’s voice makes her look up. She’s several feet behind the girls; she didn’t even realize she’d quit walking. Her roommate is looking back at her with concern. 

“Everything all right, babe?” 

____________ nods. “Yeah, uh, sorry Libra. Gladio’s drunk texting me I guess.” 

Several of the other girls giggle and blush at the mention of his name. 

“He’s _so_ hot,” Stella, a petite brunette, says, twirling her hair and making goo-goo eyes up at the sky. “What I wouldn’t give for him to just rail me...” 

“Oh Stella, get a grip,” Katie, a tall, curly-haired redhead butts in. “You know Gladio’s a notorious womanizer. But, rumor has it that ever since he graduated high school, he’s become celibate. Good luck getting _that_ eggplant.” 

“Oh, knock it off you two,” Libra huffs as __________ sheepishly rejoins the group. She winks at her roommate. “Gladio’s in love. He just hasn’t made his move yet.” 

“Oh, no way!” exclaims Monica, tucking her platinum blonde hair behind her ears and folding her arms. “How would you know?” 

“Because my boyfriend is _his_ roommate,” Libra says with a smirk. She gestures to __________. “And _my_ roomie here has been his best friend since freshman year.” 

“Oh, you must know _all_ the gossip,” Stella exclaims. “Tell us! Do you know who he likes?” 

___________ shrugs. “I dunno. He was dating Elena DeSilva until the summer, but he said it was kind of a mutual break-up. They’re still friends, so it wasn’t a bad break or anything. I don’t know who he likes now. He hasn’t really said.” 

“You’re a liar,” Libra teases, swatting at her arm. “You _know_ who he likes, and I for the life of me can’t...” 

“I don’t _know_ ,” __________ says with finality, shooting daggers at her perky friend. Ugh. If Libra starts that stupid rumor about Gladio liking her in front of these giggling sorority girls, it’ll be all over campus by tomorrow afternoon. She looks at Libra’s friends. “Honestly, probably any of you have a chance. And Gladio’s not celibate, he just...well he told me that he just hasn’t clicked with anyone yet.” She knows she’s blushing, but that’s the usual when she has to talk about Gladiolus Amicitia at length. 

Monica’s eyes go wide. “Gosh, he really talks about that kind of stuff with you? That’s like...guy stuff.” 

“What, sex? His sex life?” ____________ shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me. I mean. It’s not like I _know_ anything about sex, but like...” 

“You’re a virgin?” Stella asks quietly. 

“Be nice, Stella,” Libra sighs. “Not everyone can be Insomnia U’s most popular ride like _you_.” 

“First of all, bitch,” Stella laughs, smacking Libra on the arm. “I’ll have you know that I’ve had a genuine connection with _everyone_ I’ve ever slept with...” 

___________ chuckles and shakes her head, leaving Libra and her friends to their petty roasting as she finally answers Gladio’s text message. 

_Hey_ _Gladio_ _. You’ve had one too many drinks I see. Don’t overdo it just_ _cuz_ _I’m not there okay?_

The reply is almost instant. _ur the most_ _bealtifulest_ _wameon_ _i_ _eber_ _seent_ _u make my dick_ _harrrrd_ _I lobe u so_ _mucbfbshvf_ _!_

_____________ snorts and shakes her head, typing back. _Lol okay_ _Drunky_ _, you might_ _wanna_ _double-check your numbers before texting!_ Man, she can’t wait to take screenshots and embarrass the hell out of Gladio in-between classes tomorrow. 

“Hey, ________!” 

She looks up. Libra and the girls are making their way to Katie’s big luxury SUV. 

“C’mon slowpoke, we’re going for dinner!” 

“But it’s almost ten!” __________ exclaims, jogging a little to catch up with the other girls. “And we have class tomorrow.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back on campus before class,” Libra teases. “It’s a girl’s night! Dinner and drinks are on me,” Libra says, shoving ____________ into the back seat next to Stella as she herself plops into the third row of leather seats. 

_____________ pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and resigns herself to the direction of the other girls, wishing she’d just opted for a quiet night with Gladio at Kenny Crow’s eating bacon fries and playing King’s Knight under the grimy neon diner lights. 

Gladio swallows down all of his inhibitions as he fumbles with the button and zipper of his jeans. It takes him a lot longer than usual, what with his incredibly blurry vision and all, but he finally does it, pushing down his pants and even his underwear. He’s been half-hard all night, because the more he drinks, the warmer he feels, and his thoughts have relentlessly been drifting back to his cute, chubby best friend. He wonders what she’s doing right now. She’d sent him a picture of the sparkly pink dress that Libra had bought her as a surprise, and her roommate had even done up her hair and make-up for the night out with her and the sorority girls. Gladio’s a little guilty for rubbing one out to the picture, but damn, her body had just filled out the dress in all the right ways, and her cleavage was looking top-notch. Gladio feels a little jealous that he’s missing it. 

So he does the only thing he _can_ do in his mind. If she won’t respond to gifts, or time hanging out with him—maybe it’s time to pull out all the stops. Besides, this is what got him so far in high school isn’t it? Gladio’s _always_ been proud of his manhood. He strokes himself a couple of times, groaning at the feel of his hand even as he wishes it were _hers_ , and lifts his phone to snap a picture. 

____________’s phone is a little older, so the battery doesn’t last as long as she’d like; even with charging it on the way to the movie, and then from the theater to the swanky downtown club the girls are dragging her too, her phone still manages to drop to 50%, and she’s loath to let it go dead. She puts it in airplane mode and hopes that Gladio makes it back to the dorm okay, slipping it into her purse while she tries to be sociable with Libra and her friends. 

_________ 

It’s nearly 1 am before the group of girls is back on campus. When Libra and __________ get back to their dorm, Libra barely falls out of her club clothes before crashing on the lumpy twin mattress. __________ laughs and turns on the lamp on her nightstand and plugs up her phone, changing into her pjs, brushing her teeth, and washing her face before slipping under the covers with a yawn. She grabs her phone and brings it out of airplane mode, watching in awe as more missed messages from Gladio begin to pour in. 

_From_ _Gladio_ _, 11:15 PM:_ _thiasd_ _is the_ _rightkzsf_ _numberrrrr_

_From_ _Gladio_ _, 11: 45 PM:_ _im_ _serious bro_

_From_ _Gladio_ _,12:05 AM: [Attachment: 1 image]_

_From_ _Gladio_ _, 12:15 AM: ur not_ _answeringfgg_ _,_ _henlo_ _buddy?_

_From_ _Gladio_ _, 12:35 AM: do you not_ _likeelf_ _itttt_ _...did iii do_ _somefing_ _wrong...pls answer...best_ _fren_ _...lobe u so_ _muchhhhh_

__________ giggles and rolls her eyes. Gladio must really be lost in the sauce to have this many typos and to talk like this. It takes several seconds to download the image he’d sent over an hour ago, but once it comes through, she almost drops her phone. Her hand flies up to her mouth and ___________’s eyes grow wide in panic. 

A dick pic. 

Her best friend on campus that she’s known for well over a year has sent her a _dick pic_. 

_________ stares for several seconds before blinking herself back to reality and closing the image, going back to the message screen. Her hands are shaking—she's only seen a handful of actual dicks in her life, and never ones in real life—but there’s a few artful shots of anonymous genitalia on her Tumblr that she has saved in her likes that help fuel her imagination when she touches herself at night, along with Gladio’s scandalous fitness blog. 

But this. 

This is _Gladio’s_ dick. And it’s so very real, just on the other side of her phone screen. She knows the face and the body attached to this particular penis; she knows the laughter, the brains, the praises, the strength that are attached to the rest of him; and it only makes her heart ache more. Whomever Gladio was attempting to flirt with is seriously missing out. She knows she should delete it—after all, he’s drunk. His other messages indicate as much. She can’t fault him that much; after all, she wasn’t there to curb his inhibitions or keep him company. But. But she’s only a woman, after all. Guys like Gladio don’t like girls like her, so this is the closest she’ll ever get. An accidental dick pic. 

She’s _felt_ him, of course—the nature of being close to a man. Hugging, sleeping in the same bed...it’s happened dozens of times at this point in their relationship. And she’s tried not to be all “awkward virgin” about it, pretending not to acknowledge it at all. She sighs, opting to just leave it in messages instead of saving it on her phone. With Gladio’s social standing, even Libra seeing it accidentally could lead to a huge scandal. She swallows, feeling hot under the collar but vowing to just turn over and sleep instead of trying to get off. She texts Gladio one final message of the night. 

_Dude!!! You really shouldn’t send shit that you’ll regret in the morning, lmao. No more house parties for you! See you in the morning, if you’re not too hung over lol. Be careful about sending that sort of thing—even to the right person, you don’t want your reputation damaged! Ttyl bro ^-^_

_________

Gladio wakes up thirty minutes before his alarm, pounding headache and aching muscles. Fuck, how much did he drink last night? The last thing he remembers is Sol carrying him piggyback across from the row of frat houses and back onto campus grounds, sneaking past the RA on duty and collapsing into bed. He barely remembers anything from the party after talking with...basketball captain? Volleyball captain? He groans as he rolls over, wondering if __________ had texted him about how her night with Libra and the other girls had gone. He hoped she’d had fun, but damn, he missed her. Gladio smiles like a dope as he blinks through bloodshot eyes, bringing up his text messages. 

And then, he can _feel_ the blood drain from his face. He scrolls up, wondering where he went wrong. Everything after 9:30 pm is the cringiest shit ever, and not at all how he intended to confess his feelings. ___________, being the graceful girl that she is, took everything like a champ and deflected him, chalking it up to the wrong number and him being wildly intoxicated. He might’ve been drunk, but his intentions were there, clearly—and Gladio buries his face in the pillow when he sees the picture he sent her. How in the Six did he think that was a good idea? To send something like that to someone who’s never done more than kiss...fuck, he’s never been so embarrassed. He only hopes that she’ll continue to laugh it off. He's gotta play it cool. This is _not_ how he wanted to confess his newly-realized feelings. Gladio throws his phone back onto his nightstand and gets up, stumbling to the bathroom to take a hot shower and inhale some aspirin. 

After breakfast in the cafeteria, eating his weight in fresh fruit, protein, and carbs, and drinking a shit ton of water; Gladio swings by the campus coffee shop for two chocolate chip muffins and two cold brews with extra espresso as a peace offering, and meanders to class. 

___________ is already sitting cross-legged on the floor outside of their room for Environmental Politics, textbook open, no doubt rereading the chapter they’re supposed to be covering today, even though she got in so late last night, if her texts are anything to go by. Gladio swallows his pride and clears his throat. 

“Hey Gladio,” she says, not looking up. 

“Yikes, am I in the doghouse or somethin’?” 

She looks up, soft smile on her face. And maybe it’s Gladio’s imagination, but he _swears_ that her gaze lingers just a few seconds too long on his crotch. Well. He _is_ in gray sweatpants, and it’s not like he’s ever been keen on hiding anything. Still. He’s already been practicing in his head how to apologize. He waits for the royal chewing-out he knows he rightly deserves. 

But she only shakes her head. “No, sorry—I was just hyper focused.” She nods at the food bags and coffees in his hand. “Aw, breakfast?” __________ yawns. 

Gladio clears his throat again. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Here.” He waits for her to pack up her things and sling her backpack back onto her back, watching her hands as she slides her phone into her back pocket. She takes one of the bags and coffee cups from him, letting her fingers linger on his. Gladio swears he feels electricity down to his toes. 

“Thank you,” she says, grinning wider at him. 

“No problem,” Gladio says. He waits for the inevitable, but...it never comes. 

Their professor comes to unlock the door, and the students shuffle into their respective desks—Gladio and ___________ side by side, with muffins and coffees to compliment their textbooks and notebook paper. 

Gladio’s on edge the whole rest of the day. Their next class—then lunch—then the third class, then the fourth. They go to the gym together. They study and do assignments for two hours at the library. Gladio invites her to do what he _wanted_ to do last night—they wind up at Kenny Crow’s, phone chargers plugged into the sockets under the table to play King’s Knight. 

And not once. Not _once_ does she bring up Gladio’s drunken conversation, much less the lewd picture he’d sent. Gladio doesn’t know whether to be thankful or angry at her non-reaction. 

____________ had _thought_ she’d be in the mood to tease him relentlessly, but when she’d looked up at him that morning, she could see the remorse and embarrassment in his eyes, and the playful mockery had died on her tongue in an instant. Plus, the coffee and muffin were clearly an _I’m sorry_ gesture. What happened last night certainly doesn’t change her opinion of him, so why bother? She figures that if Gladio wants to bring it up, then he will. The best for _her_ to do, she’d figured out over breakfast this morning, would be to forget that the conversation ever happened. It does no good to dwell on the perfect, thick cock that she’s never going to get her hands on—or the confession of love (or, _lobe_ , as Gladio had so eloquently put it) that she’s never going to get from the gorgeous hunk across the table. Water under the bridge, right? Just pretend like it never happened. 

She glances at her watch—it's nearly 11, and their third order of bacon fries is down to the too-crispy fried bits at the bottom of the basket. 

“Gladio, it’s late,” she says, finally putting down her phone after upgrading some of the new armor she’d gotten in the daily drop. 

“Oh, uh. Yeah.” Gladio sets his phone down and runs his hands through his hair--he’s kept it trimmed at shoulder length, just for her. (Though, Iris is having fun braiding it and putting in sparkly butterfly clips whenever he visits home.) He sighs. It’s now or never. He’s been in agony the whole damn day. “Hey, listen, about last night--” 

____________ holds up her hand, shaking her head. “Hey dude, listen. We all do dumb shit. I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“I’m still gonna apologize. It was so fucking stupid. I lost control, and I had too much to drink. I...shouldn’t have done that. It was awkward. And I don’t want things to be awkward between us.” 

____________ smiles. “Things are fine, Gladio. I mean...” She shrugs. “You know my clothing size. I think at this point in our friendship, seeing bodies is gonna happen eventually.” 

“That’s not—that's not how--” Gladio bites his tongue. _That’s not how I wanted you to see my body._ “Ugh. Nevermind. Still. I’m sorry, like I said. Are we cool?” He gazes at her with hope. 

She smiles and nods, reaching to unplug her phone charger from under the table. “We’re cool, Gladio. Let’s get back to campus.” 

“Right.” Gladio grabs the check from the table and reaches for his own charger. 

Deep down, he knows he still fucked up, even though she’s waving it off. He only hopes that he doesn’t do any other stupid shit to turn her away from him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm like a cat in a cage, locked up and battered and bruised  
> I am the prodigal son, a shameful prodigy too  
> I am the love of your life, battering ram and confused  
> I turn each day into night, I stand there waiting for you  
> There is desire to fight, but I have nothing to prove  
> But with the crowd and some lights, I start to feel things move  
> Do you have something to hide? 'Cause I think that we all do  
> I am a child inside, back up and give me some room"
> 
> "Natives," blink-182

_two days after the dick pic_

They’re sitting in the library as is the norm, sprawled out on the couch on the third floor on a Thursday night, late after Gladio has come back from Citadel training with the prince and others. The library is mostly deserted; there are only a couple of other students on the third floor, and they’re tucked on the other side of the long rows of bookshelves and computer monitors, far away from Gladio and __________. 

Neither of them has moved a muscle in hours, alternating between reading textbook chapters, answering response questions for Environmental Law; typing up annotated bibliographies for Lucian Public Policy; typing an outline for a five-page essay due in Political Analysis in three weeks. They each have one half of Gladio’s wireless earbuds in each ear, quiet lo-fi playing directly into their heads from Gladio’s Spotify playlist on his phone—Gladio has the right bud, and ____________ has the left. 

Gladio realizes too late that he probably hasn’t done half as much as his studious bestie; and her chubby legs draped over his lap is distracting him in the best-worst way. But she seems to be unaffected, sighing deeply as she clacks away on her keys. He watches her out of his peripheral vision, and Gladio doesn’t miss her shiver as her face twists into a pensive frown. 

“You cold?” he asks, looking up from his dreadfully boring political history book. 

“Huh?” she blinks. 

“Here,” says Gladio, slipping off his hoodie. He was getting a little warm anyway; the weight of her legs is adding to that. He shoves his _IU_ hoodie in her direction. 

She stares at him, face flushing just slightly. “Gladio, what...I’m fine.” 

“You’ve got goosebumps. You’re getting cold because you’re tired. Just take it, I’m fine.” He bounces his legs. “You’re keeping me warm, ha ha.” 

____________ starts to withdraw her legs, but Gladio clamps down on her calf. “I didn’t say to take them away. Put on the damn hoodie and get back to work.” 

“But...it won’t...” 

“It’s a two-ex, honey. Put it on.” Gladio waits and watches as she slips the hoodie on over her head, pulling it carefully over each arm. Warmth blossoms deep in his belly and ripples up through to the top of his head. His mouth goes dry as she pulls the too-long sleeves up past her wrists so she can continue to type. It fits her perfectly, except for the sleeves. 

She glances up at him through smudged blue glasses, smiling shyly. “Thanks,” _____________ says. 

Gladio loses himself for a moment and says the first thing that comes to mind. “That hoodie is made out of boyfriend material, y’know.” 

___________ doesn’t miss a beat, tilting her head as she dives back into her essay outline. “Oh, yeah? Are you talking to someone new?” 

Gladio sighs. He’s so fucked. 

_iive days after the dick pic_

Another Friday night, another “date” at Kenny Crow’s across the street from campus. There’s a seasonal event going on in King’s Knight, and the two of them are grinding through the event storyline together, black coffee going cold between them and two baskets of bacon fries stacked with only fried bits and soggy wax paper remaining at the end of the table. They’ve been largely sitting in comfortable silence, with the exception of the occasional conversation about battle strategy, or whether or not they should try the pie special of the day (they totally try the pie). 

Gladio shifts a little and clears his throat after some time. “So, uh,” he says quietly. “Have you ever had someone that you’ve liked that you’re...not supposed to like?” 

__________ slowly lowers her phone to the sticky diner table without meeting Gladio’s gaze. “Um,” she says. “Gladio, do we really have to...” 

“No. I wanna talk about this.” 

She sighs, and finally lifts her tired eyes up to him. “Fine.” 

“So...have you?” Gladio suddenly feels lightheaded. 

____________ shrugs. “I mean. Kinda. Yeah. I feel like everyone’s had that.” She tilts her head. “Are you going through that?” 

Gladio mirrors her shrug. “I think...I think so.” 

“You? Wow.” She shakes her head. “I can’t imagine...you wouldn’t have to do much, honestly. You could get anyone you wanted just by being yourself.” 

Gladio opens his mouth, then shuts it again. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but his friend continues. 

“Someone you like that you’re not supposed to...” Her eyes go wide. “Oh Six, Gladio—you’re not in love with Noctis, are you?” The last few words of the sentence come out in a hushed whisper through gritted teeth. 

Gladio reels back. “What?! _No_! No, I...” He barks out a laugh. “__________, that’s not who...that’s not quite what I mean.” 

“I mean because that would make sense for you, right? A forbidden love, secretly in love with your prince for all these years, knowing he’ll be married off for political purposes, maybe to end the war...” Her voice drifts off and ___________ gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Wow...that’s so romantic. The _pining_. Someone should write fanfiction of that. That’s totally the bodyguard trope and _everything_.” 

If Gladio weren’t desperately trying not to laugh at the ridiculous thought of being in love with the bratty prince he’s known his whole life, he might actually confess now. But the moment seems lost when he comes down from giggling like an idiot. “Get yer head out of the yaoi fanfiction tags,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “Never mind.” 

“Sorry,” ___________ laughs. “That is pretty ridiculous, I guess.” 

“Yeah.” Gladio coughs. “It’s pretty ridiculous. It would make for a good story for some _other_ prince and his royal bodyguard, though. But uh. Nah. Not me.” He shakes his head again. “Hey, do you want another slice of pie?” 

___________ licks her lips and Gladio can’t stop staring. “Only if you get extra whipped cream this time.” 

“Deal.” 

_eight days after the dick pic_

Once ___________ knows that her roommate is asleep, she gently reaches to her bedside table and grabs her phone, retreating under her comforter like a cave hermit dragging in a fresh kill to eat—isolated, with a delicious snack. Except the snack is digital this time—___________turns up the brightness as much as she can stand and opens back up her text message thread with Gladio. She’s got his fitness blog on Tumblr open to help with the usual late-night needs, but, oh gods—his dick. She feels so guilty staring at it, knowing it was meant for this mysterious other person that he feels he can’t confess to; but dammit, he _did_ send it to her, whether he meant to or not. The fact remains that it’s preserved in digital amber unless she decides to delete it. 

She reaches down under her underwear, careful not to rustle too much, and begins to tentatively touch herself, sighing softly as she studies Gladio’s manhood. It’s thick and long, with a perfect pink head, flushed red and hard in that moment. She clicks on the picture and holds; thank the gods for Live pictures, because there’s a few seconds of Gladio rubbing along his length and steadying the camera. It drives her _wild_. ___________ doesn’t know the first thing about sex, even though she’s read about it and watched whatever short videos have come up on lewd Tumblr searches and seen more than her fair share of sexy movie scenes. But even in her naivete, she rubs herself to the thought of knowing that she could be so good for Gladio. She’s fat, with wide hips and strong, chunky legs—she could wrap them around his snatched waist and hold him flush against her as he splits her open on his cock. She sniffs hard, tearing up at the fantasy as she teases herself more, growing wetter by the moment. 

She’s got nice boobs, right? She momentarily drags her hand away from her clit and pinches both of her nipples hard, imagining what it would feel like to have Gladio’s big, strong hands squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples—licking, sucking, driving him crazy and making him fuck her that much harder. She pants, reaching back down between her legs to continue rubbing at her clit, so _so_ close... She closes her eyes and translates Gladio’s drunk texts into fantasy confessions in her mind. She comes with a wordless cry minutes later and arches her back, rolling her hips against her own fingers as she imagines his voice: _You make my dick so hard, baby. I love you so much. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I love you. I love you. I love you._

She lowers herself back down onto the lump twin mattress and withdraws her hand, sticky and still feeling guilty. She lowers the brightness all the way down and uncovers herself to the chest, reaching to plug back up her phone. She turns away from Libra, facing the door, and drifts off into a satisfied, heartbroken sleep. 

_Two_ weeks after the dick pic incident, and Gladio thinks he’s going to go crazy. Sol berates him almost daily about his crush; and when Libra manages to be in their room without ___________, she joins in on it. Gladio has the conversation a million times. 

“You really think I should tell her?” he asks Sol. 

“Dude, please,” Sol groans. “You’re killing us.” 

“You _need_ to tell her, Gladio,” says Libra. “She really does like you. I promise I’m not joking.” 

“Okay,” says Gladio. “Okay. I’ll...I’m gonna have this conversation.” 

“When?” Libra goads. “C’mon, you’re _you_. You can have _anyone_. Where’s that infamous Amicitia charm?” 

“But it doesn’t _work_ on her,” Gladio sighs. “She’s not like—well, you know. She’s different.” 

Libra smiles. “She’s a good different, though, isn’t she?” 

Gladio can’t help but blush. “Yeah. Good...good different.” He swallows hard. “Okay. I promise. I’ll tell her how I feel.” 

Sol grins. “Go get your girl, dude.” 

Gladio’s heart skips a beat. “I’m gonna try.” 

Libra pats his shoulder. “We’re rooting for you.” 

______ 

He tries to broach the subject again, hoping that maybe he can finally get his point across. They’re curled up on the couch in the residence hall communal lounge, watching _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ on the SyFy channel; and like all good fangirls, ___________ is simping _hard_ over Dr. Jones. It’s a movie they’ve both seen a thousand times, so they’ve had conversation off and on for the last two hours. She’s wearing his hoodie again, and she’s leaning into him, snuggled to Gladio’s side, taking comfort in the weight of his long, thick arm around her shoulders. It makes Gladio run hot from the inside out. 

The movie nears its end, and Gladio finds himself absently rubbing her upper arm. 

“So,” he says, voice low. He hasn’t _heard_ anyone else really come through the lounge area, but that doesn’t mean that someone isn’t listening. 

“Hm?” __________ says, turning to look up at him. She stares up at his chiseled, beautiful profile. _Just once...why can’t a guy who looks like_ _Gladio go f_ _or someone who looks like me?_ “What’s up dude?” 

Gladio thinks his heart is about to explode. “So...let’s say I like this person. What should I do? Honestly.” 

_____________ shrugs, heart breaking just a little more. It’s really tough to have to walk Gladio through all these hypothetical dating scenarios—but, hey. They’re friends, right? If this is what he needs her for, she can be that. He’s given her so much. It’s the least she can do in return. “Gladio. Just _tell_ them. Seriously. You know you have people eating out of the palm of your hand just by being you.” 

Gladio inhales sharply. _This is it._ “So I should just say, Hey, I like you.” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” Gladio clears his throat. “___________... I like you.” 

“Yep, just like that. I mean, who’s too dense to get something like that? Just confess to this person, Gladio. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t like you back.” 

“Oh for the love of...” Gladio stand abruptly and causes __________ to lose her balance. She sits up, a little confused, watching as Gladio gets on both knees in front of her. He grabs her legs and parts them, moving flush against the couch and into her personal space. He reaches up and cups her chubby cheeks between his hands, causing her blue glasses to shift slightly askew on her face. 

“Gladio...?” 

“I like you.” 

She nods. “I like you too! I’m so glad we’re friends.” 

Gladio squishes her face a little more. 

“Uh,” she says, lips now slightly puckered out like a fish. 

“No. __________. You’re not getting it.” He stops squeezing her cheeks, letting his hands rest normally on the sides of her face. 

“What.” 

“How many times do I have to say this?” Gladio knows he’s blushing like hell right now, but he can’t be arsed to care. “ _I like you_.” 

But ___________ only squints her eyes shut and sniffs, hard. “That’s...Gladio, I...” 

His heart clenches. “Why the fuck do I always make you cry?” he mumbles. “Hey, baby, please--” 

“Don’t call me that,” she says bitterly. “Don’t--we’re friends, Gladio...best friends...I’m just not sure if...” She shakes her head and puts her palms over her face. “I can’t do this,” she cries. 

Gladio drops his hands. His nervousness has warped into anger, and he doesn’t like it. _Does she not believe him? What the fuck is going on?_ But he checks himself and does the only logical thing in his mind—he scoops her up in a princess carry and takes the stairs two at a time up to his room. He knew Sol and Libra were going out tonight, so his room is empty. 

He fumbles his key in the lock with one hand; __________ has her face buried into his neck, choking out quiet sobs. Gladio kicks in his door once it’s open, yanks his lanyard from the lock, and kicks it shut, moving to his bed and setting his best friend down on his bed, kneeling in front of her again. 

“Look at me,” Gladio coos in his softest voice. “__________, please...please tell me what I did wrong...” 

___________ drops her hands, gazing at him through smudged, fogged glasses. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Gladio. I just...you’re going to make some woman so happy one day...” She tugs at the sleeve of his hoodie with her opposite hand. “This hoodie is very much boyfriend material.” She starts to cry harder. “I’m so...I’m so happy for you...you should go get whoever you want! You should tell them right now.” 

Gladio grabs her wrist and places it on his arm. “ _I’m_ boyfriend material.” 

__________ nods. And doesn’t she know it? Gladio is smart, kind, doting, willing to apologize for his mistakes, a really good cuddler, good-looking, noble, a closet geek...what more could anyone want? “Yeah. You are! So,” she says, wiping the tears on her cheeks. “You had some good practice down there, so you should...” 

“I want to be boyfriend material for _you_.” 

___________’s hand drops to her lap, and she stares, narrowing her eyes. “What.” 

“Like, come on buddy,” Gladio chuckles in disbelief. “How are you not getting this? You’re the smartest person I know.” 

“I...” It dawns on her. “You’re not...you’re not joking are you?” 

Gladio blinks. “What?” 

“Like, ha ha, single fat girl, still a virgin...” 

“No!” Gladio roars, near tears himself. “Fuck, __________, do you really think I’m that kind of person? Does the last year mean nothing to you?” 

“But...but you...” 

Gladio grits his teeth and tries to regain his composure. “I’ve given you gifts. I took you on a trip. I saved your mom. I get you roses for Valentine’s Day. We literally go on dates like four times a week.” 

__________ tilts her head. “Kenny Crow’s? But I...and Valentine’s Day was...out of pity?” 

“Pity?” Gladio scoffs. “Are you being serious right now? I’ve been trying to drop hints for a while. Even before I realized I was dropping hints.” 

“I got you jewelry with my _name_ on it.” 

____________ lifts her free hand to stare at the bangle on her wrist. 

“Don’t you realize I’ve already marked you as mine?” Gladio pleads. 

She turns back to him, eyes wide and jaw slack. “You...you _like_ me.” 

“Yes.” 

“As...” 

“As friends, _obviously,”_ says Gladio. “As best friends, even. But I want to take it further.” 

“More than...more than friends?” She shakes her head. “I'm sorry Gladio, I’m having a hard time processing this...” 

“Seeing you date Mel was the worst few months of my life,” Gladio confesses. “And you think it’s a coincidence that we have all the same classes this year?” He looks down sheepishly. “I pulled rank with my name and bullied my way into the same classes as you. Just to...just to be close to you. Just to have you study with me. Just to be your partner on projects.” 

The silence from the girl in front of him is deafening. Gladio looks up, and __________ is just sitting there, barely breathing, tears streaming down her face. 

“You...you want to...” 

“I want to date you,” says Gladio simply. “Please.” 

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” 

“Never.” He reaches up to stroke her cheek, thumbing away the tears. “You’re never ugly.” 

“You like me.” 

“I’m in love with you,” Gladio says, softly, finally. He grins wide. “It feels really good to say that.” 

“B-but...but guys like you don’t...” 

“They do. I’m doing it now. Don’t you dare come back with that _guys don’t like fat_ _girls_ shit, cause I ain’t buyin’ it. I like you for who you are. I’d like you if you were larger than this, even. I don’t want you any other way. I don’t want you to change for me. Ever. You’re perfect as you are.” Gladio swallows hard. “You gotta... you talk more, baby. I’m dying here. You gotta say something back. I know I’ve had some flings off and on but I haven’t _touched_ anyone since coming to college. You’ve blue-balled me all to hell.” Gladio laughs. “I don’t want...I don’t _want_ anyone else.” 

“The drunk texts.” 

Gladio blushes. “I wasn’t sending them to the wrong person, I promise.” 

“I ‘make your dick hard.’” 

Gladio sucks in a breath. “Yeah, I, uh. Yeah.” He gulps. “But we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready! I don’t want to pressure you into anything. And I’m not just saying all of this love stuff to get in your pants. We’ve been friends first, and getting to know you...I’ve grown to love you. It’s been a slow burn for me, babe. This is more than a passing lust. Please trust me.” 

“Not gonna hit it and quit it?” ____________ raises an eyebrow. 

Gladio shakes his head. “Not with you.” He coughs. “So, uh. Care to...respond? To any of this?” 

_______________ closes her eyes and leans into Gladio’s palm. Her emotions are running a mile a minute. But she _knows_ Gladio. “I’ve adored you for a long time, Gladio,” she says quietly, still crying. “I never...I never thought you’d think of me that way. I...I’m not like the people—the girls—you usually hang around...I’m not skinny or pretty. I’m not good with people. I don’t prance around in Victoria’s Secret. I’m not in a sorority. I’m not a cheerleader. I’m...” 

“And I don’t want you to be,” Gladio purrs. “I like you for _you_. I like that you’re kind of a homebody. I like that you’re always down to go eat bacon fries. I like that you go to the gym with me. I like that you’re smart. I like that my dad likes you. I like that you’re kind. I like that you’re a geek. I like that you love so relentlessly.” 

___________ squints her eyes shut and shakes her head, shedding more tears. Gladio raises up on his haunches and scoots forward; he takes his best friend’s head in his hands and rests his forehead against hers. 

“___________,” he breathes into the centimeters of space between their faces. “Will you be my girlfriend?” 

She only nods her head, crying that much harder in Gladio’s hold. 

Gladio steels himself as he closes his eyes and leans forward, pressing his lips against hers. 


End file.
